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Ægir’s Bride Ch. 01

By: Tara_Neale



NOTE: This is book 2 of a series about a submissive female, kidnapped and 'married' to three Norse god-like fishermen. The first book, Ægir's Captive, may be found in Nonconsent/Reluctance. While it always contained strong BDSM themes, I would not have presumed to place it in this category because there is nothing safe/sane/consensual about kidnapping your bride...and any Dom who would...well...even though I am sub, I am also damned good with a flogger. 

But the final chapters in that book saw a marked turn in our heroine as she chose to truly submit to men to whom she had always been attracted. It was such a sea-change (pardon the pun) that I felt it incumbent to begin a whole new book...in the category to which this story truly belongs now...BDSM. 

Of course, there will still be elements of reluctance...otherwise Doms bore too easily. Nonetheless, she had surrendered herself to her 'husbands' if not her Fate just yet. If non-consent and kidnapping is a bit strong for your tastes, I have done my best and will continue to do so...to catch you up so that this may be a stand alone book.

The other thing to remember is that this story is not about 'play.' It is about relationship, relationships actually when you throw in the poly bit. This is about a lifestyle that is 24/7 and domination which is as inbred in these men as their blond hair. It is also about a woman, who has spent a lifetime fighting her own submissive nature...while at the same time striving to be everyone's 'good girl.' These are as close to real, flawed people as I can make them. 

And as such they will make mistakes...break the rules of our lifestyle...because they reacted with their emotions and not some BDSM script or bible. Honestly, I have never met a perfect Dom or that 'good girl.' Even in the lifestyle, we play with fire and burn others or get burnt ourselves. Please keep that in mind as you read their struggles to fight and at the same time give into their very natures. 

Enjoy...

***

Kirsty Dickens looked around the table. As they had over breakfast that morning, the family seemed to be all talking at once. She on the other hand had spent the past fifteen or twenty minutes silently pushing the food around on her plate. The couple of bites that she managed to force down were excellent. On top of everything else, her new mother was an amazing cook.

The woman sat at the head of the table, like a queen holding court. To her right sat, the man, whom Kirsty supposed, was the woman's husband. Olaf was chatting with Sven, the woman's oldest son, who sat across from him and to the left of his mother. Kirsty frowned, whatever they were saying was lost on her. She was not certain if it was Swedish or Finnish, which they spoke, Petrine had said that all of her boys spoke both as well as a few more languages. These men, who were Kirsty's new 'husbands', were anything but simple fishermen.

Her husbands? It still boggled her mind. Three days ago, she had taken a train from London to Tilbury, just to have coffee with this man, whom she had been messaging for months. The man, whom she had met on a social networking site for those interested in BDSM. BDSM? Bondage...discipline...domination...submission...sadism...masochism. 

Those two bites that she had managed to force down seemed like a ton of bricks on her stomach at that moment. The whole thing was so out of character with her. The only child of two consultants, she had spent her whole life trying to gain their approval...their love. To be their 'good girl.' She had gone to the 'right' schools and studied hard. While she might not have been the brightest student, what she lacked in superior intelligence, she made up for in hard work. 

She always wondered if that was the problem, if she had been smarter...or prettier...maybe her parents would have been able to love her more? But she had not been. She had been merely average. Well, maybe not even that, when it came to looks. With her flaming red hair and freckles that covered almost every square inch of her plus-sized body, she was anything but pretty. 

She shoved a pea around the plate a bit harder. That was what she did not get...especially after meeting Petrine, her new mother. She was glad that she had not tried to force that pea down too, because she feared that she would have choked on it just then. She snuck another quick glance at the woman. 

Not only could the woman cook, raise and educate three amazing sons, and love four men, she had to be stunningly beautiful too. She knew from Bjorn that his mother was in her early sixties, but other than the head full of long silver hair that was definitely not drab grey and a few lines on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth, the woman could pass for at least two decades younger. And the way her svelte body filled out the jeans she wore made Kirsty's plus-size eighteens see green. 

Kirsty still could not believe any of this was happening. How had a brief coffee to get the rough fisherman Dom, whom she had been messaging for months out of her system before she did her best to find another 'suitable' man, who would meet her parents' stringent criteria for future sons, how had that turned into kidnapped and married? Married to three men? Three brothers? Three very dominant men, who all wanted something very different from her? 

She observed them surreptitiously. Sven, she knew he was in his late thirties, but the fine lines in his forehead and around his mouth only enhanced his manly beauty. The plan had been simple: meet this man, whom she thought was the one with whom she had been communicating and sharing her darkest fantasies for months, for coffee. Put her fantasies to rest and get him out of her system. 

He did not seem to notice her observing him as he talked with his uncle. Or the man he claimed as his uncle. That was another part of this whole polyamory, though polyandry was the proper terms...one woman...three 'husbands?' How did he know? Could Olaf not be his father instead of merely an uncle? That was one of the questions that Kirsty had not dared to bring up while she and Petrine had their long chat about the 'facts of life' as Petrine called it. 

There had been more than enough to talk about, without bringing up something as delicate as paternity. Kirsty fought back the need to laugh hysterically. It was not every day that you met your mother. Hell, she had been in a relationship with her ex-boyfriend Raj for six years, and never once met his parents. Of course, looking back, that should have told her something. None of that mattered now though, in the end, the man had given into family pressure and married a second cousin from India. Little more than six months later and the newlyweds were already expecting their first child.

But pregnancy was not a line of thought that Kirsty wanted to consider at the moment herself. Not after having unprotected sex with two of her 'husbands' in the past seventy-two hours. She brought the glass of water slowly to her lips as she looked around the room again. As tight as her throat was at the moment though, it was hard to even swallow a sip of it. 

Her husbands? Sven with his dark blond hair, which was just beginning to be laced with the silver of his mother's, and those piercing blue eyes, he reminded her of Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In this modern world, she was certain that it was not easy making a living fishing the artic seas, but this man was determined to see that the way of life his family had followed for centuries did not die with them. He was determined to make Ægir's Captive a success. For him, his brothers and their sons. She sighed heavily...the sons that he expected her to give him. Give them. But she was not going to think any more about that tonight.

She watched as he chuckled at something his 'uncle' said. But that laughter did not make it to those intense eyes. She had noticed that it never really did. Stress thrummed through this man like pressure building in a geyser. The only release, the only safety valve, seemed to be those stolen moments he spent in her bed. Well, more accurately, the control that he took when he bound her in his ropes, trapped her in his web, and used her as he saw fit...as he needed in that moment. 

Maybe that should have seemed wrong. She was certain that her feminist mother would call it 'demeaning.' But his domination had been what got her into all of this to begin with. Well, more accurately, her intense and illogical need to surrender control, to submit, to him. 

To them, she sighed, as she caught 'baby' brother's gaze across the table. He had been talking with his mother. She knew that of all her sons Petrine was closest to her youngest. Bjorn had been allowed to remain with his mother the longest. Sven had broken tradition and demanded to go to sea when he was just a boy of seven. That still shocked Kirsty...and told her all she needed to know about the man. But Bjorn had been thirteen before he went with his father, uncles and brothers to sea...and sixteen before he joined them full-time. 

He winked at her before turning back to listen to something his mother was saying. If Sven's eyes were piercingly blue like the skies on a clear day, then Bjorn's were a deep Kelly green, like the grass. It was another thing he shared with his mother. As was a keen intelligence and love of learning. All of her 'husbands' were smart men, she knew this. But Bjorn had a depth of intelligence that enthralled and captivated her. 

She blushed as she remembered their first night together...well, their only really. She had been determined that this time she was not going to be 'used' by the brothers. That she was going to be the one in charge. That she would 'show them.' If they wanted to 'play' then it would be on her terms. She had showered, shaved and emptied their whole 'toy box' onto the bed. 

He had come in...his almost white blond hair darkened from the shower still. He had brought a tray of food and bottle of wine. He sat it down on the table and proceeded without a word to pick up all the toys and place them back in the trunk, which sat at the foot of the bed. He had thrown her his shirt and told her to get dressed. That she would not go naked to any other first date. 

What a first date it had been too. Over dinner, they had talked...and talked...and talked. About anything, everything and nothing. If Sven never laughed, then 'baby' brother did so too easily perhaps. While the man might look like Thor, the hot Hollywood version, she got the impression he had the soul of Loki. His easy joking manner a mere cover for darkness that scared even him. 

Not that you could tell that now as he talked with his mother. There was nothing 'baby' about this man. Not only was he the largest and most imposing of the three brothers with a mind that belonged more at Cambridge or Oxford than fishing the seas, but the way he could command her body and soul was... She was certain there must be words for it, but she could not think of them at the moment. Hell, just the man's 'kisses' stole your breath away. 

She took another sip of the water as she stared across the rim of the glass at the man, who frightened and intrigued her the most. Mikael. The middle brother was unlike either of the other two. His dark blond hair could almost be considered brown. And he hid what she suspected was a face as handsome as baby brother's behind a beard. 

Hiding was what this man did best. Pain mostly...hiding behind it, hiding from it, hell, even hiding from the family that wanted to help. He was certainly hiding from her. She thought of that first night with this man. After her coffee with Sven, he had taken her back to their boat, Ægir's Captive. The brief tour had ended in his cabin, where things got out of control...fast. She still was not totally sure how or why. 

But she had woken hours later at sea...alone with the three of them. Bjorn had made dinner and they all sat down to eat it in silence around the table in Sven's cabin. After a bit, fearing the worst...rape, slavery, murder, she had worked up the nerve to ask what they intended to do with her. Their response had floored her...she would be their wife. Their...plural. 

They had even graciously given her the choice of which brother would share the cabin and her bed that night. She had seen the reluctance, that hiding, in Mikael's face and mistakenly thought she could reason with him, convince him to help her escape. It had not worked that way though. While he remained fully clothed, took no pleasure himself, he had shown her that her body could be turned against her as he first repeatedly pushed her to the very edge of an orgasm and then drew back, denying her release. Until he had tired of that game and shoved her over the edge into oblivion. 

She looked across the large open plan living area where the little girl was lining up her dolls near the fire place. The child, this man's daughter, explained so very much about him, about the pain that he hid and was in turn hiding behind. He was as much locked inside his own world and mind as was his daughter, whom even after only a few hours, Kirsty very much suspected was like the hundreds of autistic children she had worked with as an Occupational Therapist.

Had...had worked with. Those words still came so fucking hard to her. Even after that 'facts of life' talk, after Petrine had fully given her the choice to return to her job...her old way of life. She felt the tears stinging her eyes. She fully understood how Mikael must feel at times. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. While she had turned down Petrine's offer, had decided as Bjorn pleaded with her to give them a chance, a real chance, still her mind and her heart battled at moments like this. 

"Are you finished, dear?" said the kind voice from just over her shoulder. She had been so caught up in her dark musings that she had not even noticed that Petrine had finished speaking with her youngest son and left her chair.

She fought back tears as she forced herself to look up into the woman's face. She could not though manage to force words past that lump in her throat. All she could do was a simple nod as the older woman smiled sympathetically and took the plate from her. "You did not eat much. I know our food is a bit different from what you are used."

Kirsty shook her head again, "No, it was lovely. Thank you. I am just not very hungry."

The woman placed a hand upon her shoulder and squeezed softly. The move said exactly what the woman had intended it to... 'I understand.' And Kirsty knew that this woman did. She, herself, had once been a captive bride. Taken by four brothers as she hitchhiked across Europe, a free thinking, feminist of the early seventies. But she had come to love them all, accept and even make peace with this unusual way of life. Kirsty just hoped that she had made the right choice today...that she too could do the same.

"Boys, I did not have the time to show your wife, her room before dinner. You do it while Olaf and I clean up," Kirsty still could not get used to the way this woman called them...boys. For certain they were her sons. But could she not see that these men were anything but? Perhaps she would not understand until... She frowned and tried once more to push that thought aside.

Sven was the first to speak, "Her room? Mama, you cannot mean..."

The woman held up her hand, "Of course, I do. That room belongs to the bride not the mother. You know that." 

He shook his head once more, "She can have the guest room. I am sure that Kirsty would not want you to give up your room," he replied looking at her.

Kirsty nodded and looked up at the woman, who had been nothing but kind to her. "No, Petrine, Sven is right. I could not take your room."

The woman laughed and the years fell away. Kirsty caught a glimpse of the woman that once must have been just as reluctant, as confused and uncertain as she was. "No, sweetie, that bed is too big and lonely for an old woman and her ghosts." Her face softened just a bit and she smiled across the room at the only one of her husband's remaining, "I won't hear any more of this. Besides Olaf has invited me to share his cabin."

Sven frowned at the man across the table as he said something to him, which once more was lost in the translation. Kirsty was determined to learn both Swedish and Finnish...and fast. This was not fair. She caught Bjorn's smiling face as he winked at her. Obviously, he did not share his brother's reluctance. Then again he never had. It was he, who had pushed and prodded both Sven and Mikael into taking a bride in the old way. 

Mikael. She looked across the table, where he sat stiffly. Head down as he too pushed food around a practically full plate. She could not help but wonder how this announcement must feel to him. Had Petrine given up her room before...when he brought home his first wife? His legal and monogamous one...that voice of doubt whispered in her mind. Was this whole thing a bitter reminder of that failed relationship? Of the woman that he loved who had left not just him, but their child behind?

As if he sensed her gaze, he looked up. His grey eyes were as cold as storm clouds that they reminded her of. He held her gaze, but it was his mother to whom he spoke, "I need to give Monika her bath and put her to bed, Mama. I am sure that Sven and Bjorn can manage without me."

Kirsty felt those tears stinging her eyes again at this man's clear rejection. Why should it matter? Bjorn made it abundantly clear that she was his choice. Even though she still had trouble believing that a man, who looked like him, would ever give someone like her a second glance. When they were together, when he looked at her that way, she had no doubts that he meant. 

And Sven, though he did not, might not ever, reveal as much of himself as 'baby' brother, when she looked into his eyes as he tied her with his rope, commanded her obedience, as he buried himself deep inside of her, she knew. This man too wanted her...needed her.

So with two men, two amazing lovers, what did a girl have to complain about? Two husbands were after all...twice the average...well, at once anyway. So what did it matter if Mikael hid from her? She swallowed her pain as that other tiny voice, the one that she had spent a lifetime ignoring, the one that had brought her to this place, replied, 'Because even if he does not want you, he needs you...even more than his daughter does.'

It was Kirsty that wanted to hide once more from the truth of those words and others that Petrine had shared with her while they talked this afternoon. Words of her being the one truly in control and how important it was that she use that control wisely and fairly. This man might not be easy to love like Bjorn...she might not feel the same need that she did with Sven...but he was her husband just as much. And that was a scary thought.

She was not certain what she would or could have said as she dropped his gaze before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. But she did not have to worry about it as Petrine reached across the table and took his plate too, "Your father and I can manage our grand-daughter for one more night. Your wife needs you right now more than your child."

Kirsty saw the storm clouds darken even more in those eyes, feared the thunder and lightning that was to burst. But once more it was Olaf, who said something...damn them all. Mikael was not pleased, his face was just as tight, but he nodded and pushed back his chair to stand.

It was not just Mikael though. Suddenly they all seemed to retreat...back into their own thoughts, concerns...hopes. The room froze. Silence reigned. She was not sure for how long they all stood there, just staring at one another. She would not fathom a guess at what was in each of their minds. For her, it was the finality of it. Her room. Her husbands. And all that went with that which kept her silently frozen to that spot next to her chair.


Ægir’s Bride Ch. 01



Petrine was the first to break it with her hands fisted onto that tiny waist. "Jesus Christ, what are you waiting for?" She shook her head and grabbed Kirsty's hand, practically dragging her across the room to the stairs. 

She gave none of them any choice but to follow her. Kirsty frowned as she wondered...had she ever really had a choice either? Sure Bjorn and this woman had offered them to her, but had Fate? Had they really been choices or merely illusions of them? She caught Bjorn's smiling face and thought what an excellent quandary to share with this man the next time she 'called' him to her bed. 

But that would not be this night. His tiredness, after last night's watch and the previous one in her bed, beat at her. And while she might have liked to think that she could take him into her arms and hold him while he drifted off to sleep, this thing between them was too new, too intense for her to delude herself like that. No, it was best if he slept alone this night. 

As they reached the top of the landing, which branched out on either side to form a U-shaped hallway, Kirsty noticed that once more Mikael held back, brought up the rear, stayed on the periphery of even his own family. Even Sven it seemed was filled with more trepidation than joy at the prospect of installing her in this place of honor as the 'wife.' 

She sighed and would have pulled back herself but the woman's firm hold on her hand pulled her forward, forced her to face...what she was uncertain as the woman began speaking again.

"That is the bathroom," Petrine said as she waved at the first door on the right hand side of hallway. "Sven and Olaf remodelled in there a couple of years ago. So while it still has my bear claw tub, it also has a shower."

Bjorn leaned in and brushed the side of her face as he whispered, "Mama is understating things. It is a full-size wet room. And I for one cannot wait to see how wet I can get you in there."

Kirsty caught her breath and blushed as his words sent tingles down her spine to pool between her legs, which suddenly did feel rather...damp...at the image of the two of them in the shower. 

She did not have time to indulge any further though as her mother continued, "The room next to it is the guest room and at the end of the hall is the nursery where Monika stays. When the boys were younger both of those rooms were theirs."

Kirsty still found it difficult to imagine what this woman's life must have been like then. Three boisterous sons...though Kirsty doubted that Sven had ever been a child. Four husbands to love...and all the responsibilities that went with that. And a town full of people who gossiped and talked about you behind your back. It was all over-whelming.

The woman waved to the other side of the hall briefly, "Those are the boy rooms. I will let them show you later." 

Then she was off again, dragging Kirsty behind her to the heavy wooden door that loomed straight ahead at the top of the stairs. She pushed it open and stood back waiting for Kirsty to enter first. She froze just inside the room. It was like stepping back in time. 

The unmissable center piece was the massive bed that stood straight ahead against the wall. It was remarkable not just for its size, but because of the ornate carvings on the four massive posters which stood like centennials at each corner of it. They practically reached the ceiling, almost eight feet tall. Each stained a dark wood and intricately carved with figures that seemed to bring alive this families Norse heritage. Half way up on each, through the nose of a laughing image that she suspected was meant to be Loki was a large metal ring. 

The headboard was a good five feet high. It curved, rose and fell like gentle waves. But at the zenith of that center wave rose the face of another god. And another thick metal ring through its nose as well. The footboard was not as impressive. Though the bed was two, perhaps close to three feet off of the floor, the mattress rose just above the carved wooden design. There were wooden rails across the top, also decorated with the images. Thick, dark red curtains hung from the ones on the side and at the foot of the bed. Though they were drawn back now, secured with thick rope through those metal rings. 

Only the brightly colored and obviously handmade quilt that covered it softened its impact. The quilt was a patchwork of tiny squares in shades of red and dark pink that formed a pattern of interlocking concentric circles against a white background. The thing looked so beautifully crafted that Kirsty felt it belonged more in a museum than upon a bed. 

Kirsty sighed, if this woman's words that afternoon had not been daunting enough, she would have been just by the sight of this bed. Her bed. And it was she who would be expected to choose now. She who would 'call' them, her husbands, to it. It was a responsibility that she was not sure she was ready for as she faced Loki's laughing face. 

She swallowed back that fear and forced herself to listen as Petrine walked across the room to the only other significant piece of furniture. A huge matching wardrobe loomed almost to ceiling on the wall to the left. It too was stained that same dark color and marked with those same wooden carvings. Those metal rings also hung ornately from the snarling dog figures at either end of its curving top. And an even larger one from Loki's laughing face that was centered between them. The thing was almost as imposing as the bed had been.

"I did not know your style but I have bought a few things for you off the Internet. Mostly jeans, t-shirts and a few girly things," Petrine winked at her. "You can pick out what you want or need and order them yourself later."

Bjorn shook his head as he stepped up behind her, wrapping his arm about her shoulder and drawing her against him, "I will select her clothes."

Sven stepped up on her other side and wrapped his arm about her waist. His hand rested on the curve of her hip, "And I her undergarments."

Petrine laughed and the sound echoed around the room with its dark panelled walls that seemed even darker since there was not a single window in the room. The only light was the soft glow from the hurricane glass orbs on either side of the door. 

Kirsty noted that Mikael had stationed himself there by the open door. Ready for a quick escape, perhaps? He leaned against the wall, one foot resting against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. Flanked as she was on either side by Bjorn and Sven, Kirsty could not understand why his absence bothered her so much just then. He stared at the dark wood flooring that was softened by thick rugs which also appeared hand-woven.

The only other furnishing in the room were a massive captain's chair in the corner of the room closest to the door and a trunk against the wall by the bed. The damned thing looked surprisingly real. Much more realistic than the props in Hollywood pirate movies. Its heavy lid was closed and an ancient lock hung from the center. 

Over all, the room reminded her of the time that she had gone with her school on a tour of the Tower of London. The White Tower in particular. It had once stood not as one of the world's most infamous prisons but rather as the stronghold of William the Conquer. She remembered the King's chambers on that tour...and the Queens. While these walls were wooden and not great blocks of Norman stone, it was no less austere. 

She remembered too from that trip the story of how the King would call for his queen. Except in this world...it was the queen, who did the calling. And she was now that Queen. She shivered at the thought. 

Bjorn's hand on her shoulder gave a gentle squeeze and she looked up into those tired green eyes. She knew he meant to reassure her as his mother had tried to that afternoon. But the stiff way that Sven stood at her other side...and especially the thunder clouds that she felt rolling off of Mikael from all the way across the room was anything but. 

Petrine closed the wardrobe door and walked over to her. She held out both her hands and Kirsty took them as her mother drew her away from both Sven and Bjorn. She smiled at her reassuringly but her words were anything but what Kirsty wanted to hear at that moment, "So, dear, who?"

Kirsty shook her head, hoping perhaps she had not heard this woman, whom she thought was her ally, correctly. 

Sven took a step towards them, "Mama, Kirsten is tired. The journey, being at sea, she was not born to it. All of this is a bit to take in...overwhelming. She might prefer to be alone this night." He stared directly at Bjorn when he spoke again, "I am sure that none of us will object."

Petrine stared her son down, "Exactly, Sven. All of this is overwhelming and I know that better than any of you. The one thing that your wife does not need this night is to be left all alone in that big bed with her thoughts, her worries, and her fears." 

She turned back to Kirsty, though she recognized the wisdom in the older woman's words, her eyes that were so much like Bjorn's bore into her soul as she demanded once more, "Who, Kirsty? Who shares your bed this night?"

"I will," Bjorn stepped forward. 

As much as Kirsty wanted, perhaps even needed, the comfort this man alone could offer her. She saw again how tired he was. She could not allow him to sacrifice another night of sleep to be that solace in her storm. She shook her head and said, "No. You need to sleep."

He crossed the room and took both her hands in his. He brought them to his lips with a smile, "It will be fine. I think I can make the sacrifice...just this once," he teased.

But she was not fooled as she shook her head once more, "Tomorrow." She stood on tip toe to brush a kiss on his handsome cheek, "And you better be rested. I am looking forward to more of your excellent...conversation," she teased him.

He frowned at her reply but nodded his head. She looked at Sven, but he had shared her bed last night. And his mood at the moment was not much better than Mikael's.

Mikael. He leaned silently against the wall still. She was not sure he had moved at all during the whole 'tour.' His dark head down, his eyes fixed on the floor, his body stiff, it was clear that he was uncomfortable with all of this. But beyond that she had no idea what she had done, why he objected so strenuously to her presence in this room, or how to reach him...

But he was her husband too. And she remembered Petrine's words that afternoon... "Not all are as easy to love, but sometimes it is one's who make it hardest, who need it the most." Kirsty remembered how this man had tagged so protectively after his daughter as she ran about the playground that morning. She remembered the pained look upon his face when the child had jerked away from his touch. Yes, sometimes they did need it the most. 

"Mikael, I chose Mikael," she was surprised at how strong her voice sounded. But she was not prepared for the dark scowl upon Bjorn's face or even the slight stiffening in Sven's stance. But it was brief as if he quickly caught himself before he could betray anymore of his feelings. 

Even more she was not prepared for how quickly Mikael pushed himself off that wall, and crossed the room to stand in front of her. "What?" He shook his head and frowned, "No, my daughter needs me. I need to give her a bath and put her to bed. I have been away from her long enough."

Petrine stepped between them, "We can look after Monika one more night, Mikael. Right now, your wife needs you more than your child," his mother reminded him once more.

Her son looked as if he would argue with her, then he looked to Kirsty and her heart stopped at the dark clouds that were no longer grey but black now. They promised not just a thunderstorm but a tornado was brewing in this man's soul. She opened her mouth, was about to take it all back. Try and reassure this woman that she could survive one night alone in this bed. As imposing as it was, it could not come anywhere near to the look on his face.

Petrine put her hands on Kirsty's shoulders and drew her into an embrace, "Good night, dear," was what she said aloud. But as she pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek, she whispered, "I knew you were the One. As wise as you are beautiful."

The woman stepped back and motioned for Sven and Bjorn to precede her from the room. It was Sven though who surprised her by pausing just inside the doorway. He turned and stared first at her and then at his brother, "We are just down the hall....if you need us."

Petrine put a hand on her eldest's shoulder and smiled at Mikael, "I am sure that everything will be just fine. Good night, both of you," she said with a smile as she drew that heavy door closed. There was a finality to the click as she released the handle and left Kirsty standing alone at the foot of the huge bed facing her husband. A man that she could tell wanted to be anywhere else but in this room with her right now.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 02



"Why?" Mikael could not stop himself from demanding. Last time he had known. She thought he was the weakest link, wanted to try and manipulate him into helping her escape. But he was certain after his little lesson with knife play and edging, she would never again call him to her bed. And that was fine by him, he allowed that little voice to lie. 

The thing was...the way she said it. So loud. So clear. It was as if she had actually meant it. As if he really was her choice. But he knew that was not possible. Or was it?

He covered the distance between them, until he loomed large over her. "What? You want to taste more of the bad boy, Kirsty? Feel my knife drawing patterns on that damned ivory skin? Or maybe you need me to edge you a bit more this time? Push you higher and higher, closer and closer, but not let you quite get there...until I am ready that is?"

He loved the way her cheeks and neck could flame as brightly red as her hair. "What? Is baby brother's knight in shining armor routine wearing thin? He not spending enough time with his pretty face buried between those soft thighs?"

Her quick intake of breath, the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot and steadfastly stared at the floor gave him his answer. "Of course, we both know big brother only has one thing on his mind right now. Breeding his baby into your fertile little cunt," he allowed his hand to drift lightly over her lower abdomen. 

"Don't worry though. I have no interest in joining my brothers in sperm wars. One child is enough for me." This time he did not allow her to hide from him as he lifted her chin until their eyes met. "I have other things in mind for you, dear wife," he spat the words with all the vitriol he felt. "Strip!"

She shook her head or tried to as much as his fingers upon her chin allowed. "No is not an option now. You chose me. You follow my orders this night." That thought alone should be enough to insure that this was the last time she called him. 

But he was not ready to keep things so simple, "You have two choices now. One you strip like I told you." He trailed the finger of his other hand from her cheek down her neck to the deep V of that damned jumper that plunged so fucking low to reveal the soft swell of her tits. "Or I cut them off you," he whispered almost against her lips. "And you know I will too."

His hand trailed lower to the underside of her breast. He cupped it a squeezed firmly. She gave a sweet gasp and jumped just a bit, enough to tell him that he had her full attention now. "Of course, I might not want to play 'daddy roulette' with my brothers, but that does not mean I won't enjoy the fruits of their labors. These tits will be absolutely mind blowing once you get pregnant. And nursing their son? Fuck woman, with these...well, I am sure the little one won't mind sharing every now and then."

He chuckled at how wide those expressive eyes could get. So he had managed to shock her, he liked it. He wrapped his arm about her waist and bent his head. He used his tongue as he would his knife to draw a winding trail across her alabaster skin. He could spend hours playing connect the dots with those freckles and his knife. 

He shook his head, reminding himself that was not the point. If her first taste of the bad boy had not been enough to scare her off, then her second would surely be. And that was what he wanted, right? To be left the fuck alone. As long as she was good to his child...what the fuck did he care about light brown dots that cried out to his warped mind to find patterns in their starry skies?

Had he not learned anything the first time? Marriage was not for him. If he could not be enough for Greta in a 'real' marriage, what kind of fucking chance did he stand in this fucked up 'tradition' that passed as one in his family? No, it was not a game he wanted to play. 

He had enough trouble just stepping out of Sven's shadow on Ægir's Captive...with his father and their uncles. Of course, baby brother had always been the ladies' favorite whether with their mother or in the clubs they sometimes frequented. What would it take for him to learn? Hell, he could not even manage to earn his own child's love and affection. Let alone this woman's...any woman's. 

He released her and stepped back. No, better to keep his distance. To make sure that she was never again tempted to 'choose' him. "I said strip and if you are not naked when I get back, then I hope you do not like that outfit. You have already cost Bjorn his favorite shirt." He reminded her of how he had cut his brother's shirt off of her the last time. He left the rest to her imagination...a mind fuck...as he turned his back to her and walked over to the trunk against the wall. 

***

Kirsty's fingers trembled as she reached for the bottom of her jumper. Why did this man demand so much? Why the naked thing with him all the time? Sure, she had ended up naked in Sven's bed that first time, but considering the man's penchant for corsets and stockings, that had probably been more about making it harder for her to run away. 

And while Bjorn might have softened his command to put on his shirt that first night with the reminder that she would not go naked to any other first date, some part of her still could not help but see it as a rejection of her plus-sized body...especially from him. Hell, that shirt had stayed on the whole rest of that night...even when he...when they...

But time was ticking away as she watched him rummaging through that 'pirate's chest.' And she had no doubt that he meant what he said. So why did her nipples get painfully hard inside her bra at the thought of his knife cutting it away? Of its blade trailing across her breasts...she tossed the jumper on that chair, which looked more like a throne. Her bra followed quickly. 

Her breasts felt painfully tight as she remembered his words earlier. How the hell had he managed to make something like pregnancy and breastfeeding sound so fucking erotic? Oh, she knew that it was to some men. Hell, she had cruised the fetish list at that site. Of course, that was one that she would have categorized as...your kink is not my kink. Until she saw the look in those eyes. For a moment they had even softened to that wispy grey of a partly cloudy day.

Her fingers fumbled with the button on her denim mini-skirt. Maybe he was one of those types? Maybe he had acquired a taste for such things when his wife was pregnant with Monika? But still how could he find a pregnant woman sexy if the baby was not his?  

And why did his assertion that he would not be joining the 'sperm wars' as he so indelicately named it bother her? Wasn't she having a hard enough time with the concept of just contemplating whether or not she might be pregnant? Let alone the burning question of Sven or Bjorn? What was wrong with her that some part of her felt bereft that the child could not be Mikael's?

She tried to push those thoughts away as easily as she pushed the skirt and her tights down her legs. She saw him rise from where he had knelt upon the floor. His hand was behind him so she had no idea what was in it as he walked towards her. She quickly tossed the skirt and tights towards the 'throne' but they fell short and landed on the floor at its base. 

Her eyes widened as she noticed those same thick metal rings through the mouth of dogs which curved upwards at the end of each arm. And another at the top of the damned thing. The roughhewn furnishings and dark panelling as well as the low lighting gave this place the feel of a... But what did she know? She had only read about such places in her books. 

He laughed and the sound reverberated around the room. "How the hell did you ever survive out there in the real world? Anyone could read you. Every fucking thought you have, it is all right there in your face. In those eyes," he said as he came to stand once more in front of her. 

"To answer that question...yes. An ancient and probably priceless one. Hell, big brother could quit worrying about fishing if we ever decided to put this furniture on the market. None of us even know how old the damned things are; hundreds of years old for certain. But yes, those rings are meant for one thing and one thing only...to tie our captive brides to us."

Kirsty gasped then, "Oh that one is truly priceless, Kirsty. Yes, as much as my beloved brothers want to ignore it and pretend that it is not so, the way that my father looks at her sometimes leaves me very little option when it comes to overlooking the obvious truth. That our beloved and saintly mother was...or maybe still is...just as kinky as you are, my dear wife."

Kirsty shook her head. So she and Petrine had spent the afternoon discussing the 'facts of life' or more accurately the basics of polyandry. How it was possible for one woman to love more than one man. And while the topic of conversation itself had not been easy, considering her own mother's idea of 'the talk' had been to hand her the standard, NHS approved leaflet on puberty, menstruation, and how babies were really made with a healthy dose of how not to make them thrown in for good measure. 

She knew that Petrine sensed her discomfort a couple of times, she even commented on it once...something about she would keep it to the PG-version. They had certainly not talked about... About BDSM. About bedrooms that looked more like dungeons. Or anything of the kind. So perhaps like Sven and Bjorn, she could hope...believe...

But the twinkle in the woman's eye when she looked across the table at Olaf sometimes. Of course, the hardest part for Kirsty was reconciling the strong, stalwart woman with submissive. While the two women had taken markedly different paths and Petrine had a true warmth and openness that Nancy Dickens never would, her mother and mother were more alike than she wanted to think about. She simply could not imagine the woman kneeling for any man...no matter how handsome or strong her Norse fishermen might have been.

"No," she shook her head and whispered.

Mikael chuckled more softly this time. The sound brushed her cheek as he leaned in, "I have no desire to talk or think about my parents' kink or what they might or might not have done in this bed right now either." 

Her eyes grew wider as she caught the glint of the pale light on his knife. Her heart pounded and her nipples tightened so painfully that she bit her lower lip as he ran the tip across her bare shoulder. "Someone does not understand what the word 'naked' means." Before she could open her mouth to protest, the edge of the blade was between her skin and the sheer lace of the knickers which matched her bra. 

With a quick jerk the materials fell lose. He repeated the action on the other side. "Spread your legs, slut."

Kirsty had begun to realize that Bjorn might be right, that she might need to add 'dirty talk' to her fetish list. Although something told her that profile would be or maybe even had already been hacked. It would disappear from that site as surely as she had from her old life. 

But she was not prepared for what that word did to her. Neither Bjorn nor Sven had used that terms. But if pussy, cunt, cock, twat and their vivid descriptions of all the very naughty things they were going to do to her made her wet...that word practically made her knees buckle. She knew that she should be offended. Perhaps even a tiny corner of her brain still was. But the way he said it. 

He sighed as he leaned in even closer. "Is something wrong with your hearing, slut? I said open those sweet thighs. From now on panties...knickers, you call them? They have no place in this house. Your cunt will be open, bare, for us. Do you understand me?" 

Kirsty swallowed the knot that was choking her as she obeyed. The scrap of lace and elastic fell into his hand. He brought it to his face. She held her breath and the room began to spin as he placed it over his nose and inhaled. "Wet and ready already, my sweet whore wife?"

He tossed the scrap away without even looking where it might have landed. He shoved her back onto the bed. Those eyes were once again as dark as the blackest storm as he leaned over her. Her heart thudded with fear...and excitement...as she climbed on to the bed and scooted backwards until her head hit the solid wood of the headboard. 

But he simply followed her, crawled inch by inch across the mattress, looming larger than life, his eyes holding her gaze the whole time. She put up her hand then, reaching for his chest, thinking that perhaps she could try talking...reasoning with him...somehow. But suddenly the rope that had held the curtains back was about her wrist as he cinched it tighter, drawing her arm back to rest against the headboard. 

She shook her head and tried to reach for it with her other hand, to loosen the bond. But that only made it worse as he captured that hand as well. He wedged his large body more fully between her thighs, spreading them apart...though not as indecently as the spreader bar that he had that first night. "Mikael, please..." she began.

His knife blade lay flat over her lips, "Too late for talking, Kirsty. The only words that matter this night you said already...'I chose Mikael.' Everything after that is no longer yours to decide. Did my sweet mother forget to mention that part of this warped tradition? Oh, she likes to think that choice is some kind of special gift, but the truth is...it is just a matter of to whom you surrender. But you very much surrender...submit...with those words." 

"And tonight...if never again...you choose to submit to me and I intend on pushing you beyond any limits you ever imagined. Make this a night that you will never fucking forget, dear wife." Kirsty wished with all of heart that her hands were not tied then. Not for the reason he might have thought. Though his words were harsh, his tone guttural, she was almost certain the man had no idea how much of his pain he truly revealed with them. If he had, he would have never said them. 

'If never again' alone told her all she needed to know about this man...and come what may...no matter what his worse was...no matter what...she promised herself that she would not prove him right again. Not this time, not with her. 

She sighed and there was only one way to accomplish that. Surrender. Fully. Completely. Totally. Not just the easy part of her. Not just for her pleasure. Not out of curiosity about this lifestyle that she knew next to nothing about except what she had read in those books. No, her submission was the only way. And slim hope that it was, it was still better than none. 

She closed her eyes for a moment. She sought something deep inside of her. A place she had never gone before...not with Sven...not even with Bjorn. A place that was frightening in and of itself. A place where she was even more vulnerable than her naked body on display for this man. She willed herself to fight through all the doubts, all the insecurities, all those voices that warred in her mind. 

She willed them quiet. She found the peace in surrendering herself. It was strange...odd did not begin to cover it...but the words that flitted through her brain were those that the priest would say as she knelt for assembly on Friday mornings... 'Not my will, but thine be done.'

When she opened her eyes, they boldly met his as she whispered the two magic words he needed most then..."Yes, Sir."

***

'Fuck her,' his mind scream. That was not the response he wanted. Fear. He wanted to see that fear in her eyes again. That he could handle. Not this. This...willingness. But she would not get off so easily this time. 

"Kirsty, you know there are other options, things I can do to that responsive little body of yours," his eyes held the challenge. "Last time I edged you. Pushed you right to the point and then denied you." 

He bent lower and took one of those impossibly hard nipples between his teeth. He bit down upon it to test the lengths to which this woman was prepared to go. While she jumped and squealed at first contact, he felt her body go limp beneath his, the fight drain from her. He wanted that fight, so he fought back harder, pushed more.

"Maybe this time instead of edging you, I'll try forced orgasms. Making you come over and over and over again until your body cannot take anymore. Would you like that, dear wife? Would you like me to play this sweet body," his hand trailed over her soft skin. He watched tiny hairs stand upon end and felt her shiver. But when he looked back in those damned expressive eyes of hers, it was not fear that he saw but need...pure lust. 

"You would. You would like to come and come all over my face, wouldn't you? You loved having that sweet pussy eaten, didn't you?" There it was, that look, maybe not fear, but embarrassment. She even started to turn her head in denial, but she could not. Instead she dropped his gaze and whispered, "Yes Sir," once more. It fuelled his fires. 

"That is not enough though, I want more this time. I am going to make you come so fucking hard that you squirt." That did it. Those eyes snapped back to his and blazed...that fear...and its light twin excitement. "Oh, I see you have been exploring the dark side. Reading Popular Kink, were we? Heard all about women who come so hard that their pussy juice gushed like a river from their cunts?"

He reached up and laced his fingers through her hair. He pulled hard until her head banged against the headboard, "You would not mind seeing me drowned, would you? Go ahead, I dare you, wife, drown me in your sweet cunt juices." He could see her chest rising and falling so quickly that he doubted that any true oxygen exchange was possible. 

"Why wait? It is not like you need me to play with my knife to get you warmed up now is it? I bet that if I put my hand between your legs you would be soaking wet already? Aren't you, my sweet slut wife? You can't wait for the bad boy to use you, can you?" he demanded, not expecting a response.

"No Sir. Use me. Take me. Do what you want with me," she whispered breathlessly.

It was a challenge, like waving a damned red cape in front of an angry bull. She had no idea what he wanted. But before this night was over he would show her. 

"Open your fucking legs for me, slut," he savored the tiny hesitation. Was it because she was embarrassed at how accurate his assessment was? Or was it that word? 

Honestly, he had been surprised that she had not objected to it. But he recognized the slight cringe each time he used it. He knew he probably should not. Knew that she was not one of his whores, or the wizened subs that he met online or in the clubs. They were easy. Safe. This woman was neither. But perhaps if he used that word often enough, he could make himself forget that.

But she did not hesitate long as those sweet thighs spread open to him like doors opening on a palace. He matched actions to words as his fingers found the slick folds of her cunt. She was most definitely wet. But not wet enough. 

He pushed his fingers deep inside of her and watched those eyes widen as a soft moan escaped her throat, then they shut. Those expressive blue pools were denied him. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against her mound. He could almost feel her clitoris throbbing beneath his touch. It was not his main interest at the moment though. 

It did not take him long to find the thick ridge of tissue, the nerve center of her sweet pussy, her G-spot. He was not gentle, that was not what this job needed, as his fingers lunged against it, putting pressure upon it. Pressure, release, pressure, release. But this one did not need a huge warm up. Her body knew what it wanted as her hips arched up off of the bed. 

"That's my good slut. Come for me. Come harder than you ever fucking have," he was tired of the games with this woman. He knew what he wanted. He shifted position on the bed so that he lay on his stomach between those soft ivory pillows. He did not allow her to come down from that pinnacle though as his fingers plunged in and out, out and in. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 02



He felt the muscles inside her cunt squeezing. He could not help but imagine what that would feel like around his cock. 'Damn her,' he would not allow himself to go there. Not with her. Not with his wife. He would not let another one lie and use him. He would not be vulnerable like that...ever again.

He bent his head. Buried his face next to his hand. His tongue had no problem whatsoever finding what it sought. The damned thing was swollen and impossibly hard. He bit down around the tender flesh for a moment. Held it captive between his teeth, just as she was their captive. He swirled his tongue around and over it. The damned thing was almost as hard as his own teeth around it. His fingers kept up the deep, fast pace that was careening this woman straight towards what he wanted most. 

Damn it. Still it was not enough. If he would not allow himself to bury his hard cock inside of her, then the least he could do was substitute his tongue. Tongue fuck her and taste those pussy juices from the very source. He pushed her thighs back, angled her hips and tried to get a better position. But she was moving too much. He could not get the angle he wanted.

He slapped her ass cheek, "Be still, bitch." Her body jumped in his hands. He used his hand once more to lift those sweet cheeks, tilt her pelvis up to meet his mouth. The problem was to get just the right position he needed both hands. But then his fingers could not be buried knuckles deep in those wet folds, pushing her higher and higher. 

"Fuck," he spat around the hard throbbing flesh between his teeth. He needed more hands. And while he knew where four more could easily be found. He was in no fucking mood to share. 

Honestly, he might not ever be. It was not like after this, he would get the chance very often. Only when she got desperate enough for a taste of his darkness. There was no fucking way he was going to share even one of those rare occasions with his brothers. 

Besides, she was barely coming to terms with their fucked lifestyle as it was. There was no way she was ready for that kind of thing. He frowned...would he ever be? Probably not, but he would think about that later. He was not going to waste what precious time he had with her...thinking about his brothers. 

But there was another option. Reluctantly, he abandoned his efforts. Those eyes flew open the moment he released her sweet cunt. He wanted to laugh at the very pouty face she made...as if someone had stolen her favorite toy. He shook himself; he would never be that. He was merely the bad boy. The middle one as always.

He was not sure if it was that thought or the need to wipe the pout off her pretty face which made him slap her mound. He smiled at his near perfect aim as the tender flesh pinked. As worked up as she was, he knew that the blow landed right on her swollen clit. The shocked and pained expression only confirmed that fact. 

"Don't go anywhere," he joked as he stared at her bound wrists. Her skin looked so fucking pale against the dark wood. He scooted off of the bed and knelt before the trunk once more. While the tiebacks for the drapes might be long enough to secure her hands, it would take a longer length of rope for what he had in mind this time. But it was no problem finding that. 

He smiled at the length of soft flexible leather, which caught his attention as well. Leave it to baby brother to make sure the damned toy box was nicely restocked for them. But then again, the kid had been planning this for at least a year. 

He still could not figure out why his baby brother wanted any of this. With his face and body, he could have easily been a male model or actor. With his fucking brain, he could have gone to just about any university in the world. Why the fuck did he stay? And especially, why the fuck would he 'want' this sharing crap when he could have any fucking woman he wanted...all to himself? 

Mikael stopped that line of thought before it went in a very dark direction. Right now the only thing he wanted to think about was the man's excellent taste in toys. And perhaps gloat a bit, since he was certain Bjorn thought it would be he, who first got the chance to introduce 'their wife' to the pain of the tawse. But it would be he, who had that pleasure. 

He made certain that she could not see the tawse, but her eyes grew wider at the rope alone. "Since you cannot seem to remain still for me to munch on that sweet pussy, I suppose the only solution to make sure that you cannot move," he answered with a smile as he laced the rope through the ring in the center of the headboard. He evened it out and knotted the two strands together behind her neck. 

He held up her hair and positioned the knot in the hollow at the base of her head. Then he brought both ends around...and crossed them in front around her neck. Her eyes widened even more as he chuckled. He reached down and pushed her right leg as far forward onto her chest as he could. He wrapped the rope on the left side around her thigh a couple of times securing it with knots before he fed the rope through the same ring on the right side of the bed that her wrist was bound to.

He repeated the process on the left side before lifting her fabulous tits, running the ropes just under them so that it lifted them even higher. He stared into her eyes as he ran his fingers under the place where the ropes crossed, almost exactly over her Adam's apple. Like this, there was plenty of room, her airway would not truly be restricted at all. Just enough pressure to entice and enthral, a not-so-gentle reminder of her vulnerability.

He held her gaze as he brought the tawse up from where he had half hidden it in the folds of the quilt. He brought it down solidly on her Venus mons. It was still slightly pink from the one 'love tap' he had given it earlier. But this was enough to send blood coursing to the area...pinking it even further.

It was also enough to make her jump. To try and lower her legs...for that rope to tighten about her neck. And those huge eyes told him that she realized it too. He reached down and replaced the tawse with his knife. He ran it across her cheek as he loved to do so fucking much...never enough to break the skin of course, or even to leave a mark of any kind. Just enough to get her attention and raise a thin pink line, which faded quickly.

He ran it slowly down the side of her face and neck to where the rope crossed. He slipped it just under the top one and tugged. Not enough to cut clean through, not even to weaken it enough for her to break free. Just enough that he could finish the job in a single quick slice...if he needed to. 

He leaned over her, staring into those wide eyes as he whispered, "Trust me," against her lips. She nodded her head but that too tightened the rope, impeding her air way, just a bit so that when she did reply it was a deep, throaty whisper that made his hard cock twitch inside the tight confines of his jeans, "Yes Sir."

"Good girl," he said though the words were out before he had time to consider them. Once said he could not take them back of course, but he would be more careful about opening his mouth in the future.

Of course, there were other things he could be doing with his mouth, especially now that she was positioned just the way he wanted her. Those soft, creamy thighs with their trail of light brown stars were spread so fucking wide that he could practically see inside her tight cunt. He could not resist running his fingers around the rim of it just a bit. "I think you are even more wet, slut. Is it the rope? Mine might not be as pretty a design as big brother's but it gets the job done, doesn't it?"

She tried to nod her head once more, but quickly reconsidered that, "Yes Sir." His cock twitched again, damn the woman. 

"Or was it the pain?" He dropped the knife on the bed, close enough that he could reach it quickly though. He picked up the leather and used it as he would have his knife to draw pretty trails along the inside of her thighs. He smiled as he noticed the thin brown line at the very top of her right one. The place where he had cut her last time was healing nicely. His mark. He could almost still taste her blood. 

And he could most definitely still taste that sweet pussy on his lips. He chuckled as he remember the teasing he had taken when he grew the facial hair...flavor saver...or was that savor...both probably, especially with her cunt. But before he got back to that one... "Do you know what this is, Kirsty?" he asked as he held up the tawse.

She shook her head and he chuckled. They really were going to have to work on some of her bad habits. But there was no need for him to correct her about poor manners when the rope around her neck did the job for him, "No Sir."

"Tawse. Have you heard of them?"

This time her head remained still but those eyes flared open and her pupils dilated, "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Since you are practically a virgin to pain, we shall begin slowly. See what your threshold is. But like I said I will push you beyond your limits."

He watched as she swallowed, as her top teeth chewed that bottom lip, "Yes Sir," was her only response.

"Five. We will begin with five. The barehanded and that last one don't count. Those were warm ups, understood?"

"Yes Sir."

He caught himself this time before those words were out of his mouth. "You will count for me. It should not be too much trouble this time since we are only going to five, but just so you know...if you lose count, we start over from the beginning. Understood?"

The "Yes Sir" was a bit quieter and longer coming this time. More reluctant. But it came anyway. Just as he was going to make her...once her sweet pussy was red, raw and even more sensitive than it usually was. 

He took pleasure in pushing her just a bit further then. "And good girls always remember their manners. Thank their Doms for the pain. Do not forget the words...'Thank you Sir' after each." He grinned broadly as he added, "Or we start over from one, do you understand me, slut?"

"Yes Sir" were her words, but he far preferred the slight tremble he felt in her thighs that told him far more than words ever could.

He gave her no warning as he brought the leather down right in the very center of her shaved mound. She jumped at first contact and he watched as the ropes tightened around her neck, but she quickly forced her body to relax, "One. Thank you, Sir."

He fought back the need to smile as he repeated the process, aiming just a tad lower this time. Again she could not stop her body's shock response but was even quicker to recover this time. "Two. Thank you, Sir."

This time he adjusted the angle of the leather in his hand as he brought it down right over the opening of her tight cunt. She squealed this time as well as jumping. "Three. Thank you, Sir."

She closed her eyes and bit down harder on that bottom lip. He hesitated. Not because he had any intention of stopping. He said five and he meant five. That was another lesson his 'wife' would have to learn...no one played him anymore. Of course, if he honestly believed she had reached her limit then, the remaining ones could be softer. Baby brother had even wisely purchased a toy with soft sheep skin on the handle. But he was not to that point yet as he drew out her trepidation. 

He saw her peak beneath those closed eye lids as if checking to see if the next one was coming but he just leaned back on his heels and laughed, "What? Are you waiting for something, slut?"

She shook her head and whimpered, "No, Sir."

"Good then you should not mind this," he replied as he brought the tawse back down on her Venus mons. He could tell that he had managed to catch her clit perfectly this time by the deep, guttural and mindless moan that escaped her lips. 

He reached out and ran his palm across her flesh. It was warm to the touch. He scraped his finger nails across it and she flinched. Oh yes, his slut wife was not only more responsive than they could have imagined, she also had one hell of a pain threshold. 

He debated for a moment. The soft tender approach with the sheep skin? But something told him that she would be almost disappointed. He did not want to encourage bad behavior like pouting, did he? Well, maybe, since punishment would be such fun. But since he could still smell and taste her pussy around his mouth that would have to wait. 

He smiled as he changed the angle once more, landing another one directly over her open pussy lips. She jumped and moaned, "Five. Thank you, Sir."

He laughed as he bent forward. His large body fitting perfectly between those indecently spread thighs. He allowed the rough wool of his shirt to scratch against those hard nipples and savored her slight tremble as he wrapped his hand through her hair and pulled her head back. She opened those eyes and looked up at him.

"No, Kirsty. Wrong. That would have been one but since you got even that wrong we begin all over again," the look of utter shock and horror in that expressive face thrilled him as few things ever had. He watched then as the truth dawned on her. "Yes, you forgot four. So we start over again."

He saw her open her mouth. He prepared for her to argue with him, to plead, to beg for mercy. Not that there was much of that left inside of him...and he saved all of it for his daughter. He was not prepared for her gentle sigh as she dropped his gaze and whispered, "Yes, Sir," again.

It enraged him. The next one landed once more over her open hole. The hole he wanted to bury himself in. The one he swore he never would. He would not give her that power. Her eyes closed and her whole body arched with the force of the blow, her face reddened to the point that he almost reached for the knife. 

Then she collapsed back against the quilt. When she opened her eyes, there were tears in them, but she only whispered, "One. Thank you, Sir."

He rose up over her, used his size to accentuate her vulnerability as he brought the tawse down rapidly on her mound again. He could see the shaved skin flame red this time. But he also saw how it glistened in dim light. "Two. Thank you, Sir," her voice was a bit stronger.

He used his fingers to probe the opening of that hole, which beckoned to him. If she had been wet before, her cunt was practically flooding now. He could not wait to taste it much longer. He smiled at her, "Not only are you a good little whore, but damn woman, you having the makings of a real pain slut too," to accentuate his point, he shoved his fingers as deep inside of her as he could. 

He knew that she was tender from the leather but still he found her G-spot once more...he worked it hard as he brought the tawse down on the mound again and again. Her body was arching in a powerful orgasm as he combined her pain and pleasure. "Three. Oh, four. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir," she cried as the muscles inside of her threatened to draw his whole hand in, the contractions of her orgasm were so powerful.

He had lost patience with that part of the game. All he wanted was to taste that sweet pussy one more time. To drink her in...over and over again. He flipped the leather pad and brought the softer sheep's wool down on the red, tender flesh. Though her eyes were tightly closed, she arched her body once more. With a smile, she whispered, "Five. Thank you, Sir." 

He tossed the damned thing away and did what he had been waiting to do...bury his face between those thighs that were spread so fucking wide. His tongue found her clit. Her labia practically scorched him, it was so hot from the beating. 

Yes, their wife was definitely a pain slut in the making. He fought back the need to be the one to push those limits higher and higher. He reminded himself that after this night, she was not likely to want seconds of the bad boy for a long time. He tried to convince himself that did not matter. But as she crested another peak and her whole body reddened with the power of her release on his tongue and fingers, he recognized that he was lying to himself.

He did not allow her to come down from that orgasm as he pushed her higher. He captured her clit. He held it firmly between his front teeth as his tongue flicked back and forth over the slick surface. His fingers inside of her pounded away. He knew she would be sore tomorrow, but damn her not in the way he wanted most. And he took that frustration out upon her as she screamed. 

He smiled around her swollen love button. "Go ahead and scream, slut. This room is practically sound proof," he chuckled and felt her tremble as the vibration travelled straight to her clit. "Thank Odin. Otherwise I am sure we would be even more fucked in the head."

But it was not conversation he wanted with the taste of her cunt filling his nose, mouth, his very fucking soul...if he even had one anymore. She was thrashing against the ropes. He could see her occasionally choking herself as she strained against them, but every time just as he was certain he would need to cut her free...her body relaxed and she took in great gasps of air. 

He could still feel her cunt squeezing his fingers but the contractions were less strong than they had been. He knew what he wanted then as he released her swollen clitoris from between his teeth. He licked it, flicked it back and forth and felt her thighs begin to tremble beneath his hands. Then he continued lower, slowly licking a trail from it down past her open hole to her other tight hole. 

Sven had warned him off this one. But damn he was never one to follow anyone's rules but his own as he toyed with it for a moment. His tongue rimmed the edges and he feasted upon the way those expressive eyes widened with shock. He gave it a final lick as he slowly pressed a finger inside of it. She jumped at the invasion though he knew it was more from the shock of it than pain. 

He placed his other hand on top of her mound to hold her still. He was pleased to note how warm the flesh there still was from her pussy spanking. He worked his finger slowly in and out of her back door, stretching it just a bit more each time as his tongue began the return journey.

But this time it lingered. Homed in upon that open hole, which his throbbing cock coveted so fucking much. He knew that she would not deny him this. Hell, she probably would welcome, desperately wanted or even needed his thick cock to fill her greedy cunt. But he would not give this woman that power over him. Over his cock anyway.

His tongue was a whole other matter as he first licked around the edges, rimmed her sweet pussy as he had her asshole. He savored her juices like a fine wine. Hell, he had never been a wine connoisseur but a pussy one was another matter...and this was top quality. The best. But not even that was enough.

He used his hand that rested on her mound to spread her lips even further apart as he buried his face even deeper within her folds. His tongue did what he would not allow his cock as it sank deep inside of her tight folds. He used his tongue and his finger to work both holes in tandem. As she went flying once more. 

"Fuck," she screamed. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat and was absorbed into her cunt. He got the feeling that their sweet innocent wife did not use that word often. 

"Tongue fucking to be exact, sweetheart," he replied as he licked from her hole back up to that button which still stood at full attention. He captured it and bit down harder than he had before. She startled and the rope tightened around her pretty neck.  

"But you still have not given me what I want, Kirsty." The puzzle look on her face thrilled him as he added a touch more pressure before releasing her clitoris from between his teeth. He stilled his finger in her ass as he adjusted his position on the bed. Laying on his stomach, he got comfortable and went in for the long hall.




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 02



He leaned his face against her mound and smiled, "Don't you remember, dear wife?" 

She shook her head and whispered, "No, Sir." 

He licked her clit once more, not for any other reason than to bite back those words...good girl. Once he had himself back under control he met her gaze, "You still have not drowned me in your sweet pussy juice."

Those eyes almost popped out of her head as he grinned and added the single word..."Squirting."

He saw her chest heave, her nipple tightened, and the dark pink flesh puckered. He did not give her time to think then. He replaced the hand which had held her firmly down with his face, burying his tongue within her folds and once more working that sensitive button with it. He used the hand that had been there to return once more to her cunt. 

He pushed three fingers inside of her this time. It was more than he had dared before. He went at her like a man possessed, an animal. His tongue on her clitoris, three fingers stuffed as far as he could get them inside her tight pussy and another now fully buried in her ass. 

And it was just what it took. This time as he probed as hard as he could against that bundle of nerves just inside of her cunt, he pressed from the other side as well. Squeezing her g-spot between his fingers. Her legs dropped. He knew that she was trying to find some way to plant her feet upon the bed and arched against him. But he had tied her back too tightly. 

Her scream then was louder than he had ever heard. For a moment, he feared that it might wake his brothers...or his daughter. But he was beyond the point of caring as the first of her sweet juices drenched his face. He lapped at them like a man dying of thirst in the desert. 

Then he went back for more. It was not enough. He was not sure it ever would be with this woman. And as much as that bothered him, he was too busy lapping up her pussy nectar to give a shit right then. 

He knew he should not. That she was too inexperienced still, but he was beyond caring as he slipped his fingers out of both holes. She whimpered. Fuck, that sound drove him mad. He lifted his head and used the hand that had been inside her cunt to slap her mound once more. Barehanded...and hard.

"Did I say I was done with you, bitch? This pussy is mine...you offered it to me for the night. Remember...I chose Mikael. Well, Mikael is nowhere near being done using it yet, slut," he enjoyed the way that her tits bounced against the rope as she tried to breath. 

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled as he shoved two fingers in that tight ass then. And it was tight. Virgin tight. But he knew that too would not last. He lowered his head and began to suck on her clit like it was a third nipple. But even that was not enough as he rammed four fingers inside her tight pussy, finding that ridge of nerve endings and tormenting them as much as she was fucking with his mind.

He had warned her. He would push her beyond every limit she had...and that was just what he did.

***

Kirsty was mindless...truly mindless by the time she felt his knife against her throat. She knew she should be scared but she was too far gone by then. His face was blurry but she thought she managed to smile at him. She tried anyway. 

Then he flicked his wrist. She felt the pull around her neck as the rope tightened. She was beyond counting how many times that had happened. Beyond counting how many times this man had made her come. His face glistened with what she knew was her own bodily fluids. This close she could even smell it upon him. Her pussy. Her cunt. 

He had threatened to force orgasms upon her. And he had...more than she could have counted. She was so lost in mindless wanderings of her mind that she chuckled, "One million. Thank you, Sir."

His eyes danced then. It was the first time this man had looked half way human...except when he was with his little girl. And for just a moment, she felt hope build inside of her. She believed that she could do it. Could be what this man needed as easily as she could Bjorn...or even Sven. But then it was gone and that mask was back in place. Her heart sank with it.

The knife that thrilled her more than it frightened her...although the combination of the two was a powerful force...slipped once more between the layers of rope. With one more quick jerk she felt the self-imposed noose around her neck tighten painfully. Tighter even than Bjorn's hand had been. Then the pressure was gone completely as her legs simply fell down without the tension to hold them up.

She was certainly not capable of controlling her own body at the moment. He had shown her that...over and over...and over. It was not just the orgasms, which seemed to all roll into one continuous one. She had lost count of the number of times that she had...

He laughed again, "What? I warned you, did I not?" He said as he turned to the right. Instead of cutting this rope, he untied it. His big hands enveloped hers. He rubbed them as they began to tingle. "Move your fingers for me." She nodded her head and began to wiggle them as he turned his attention to the other arm. 

Then he worked to unravel the maze of rope that had held her legs back. She had no idea how long he took but it did not seem very long as she just sort of floated. But he brought her back to reality quick enough with the solid thud of his barehanded connecting with her outer thigh. All she could thank was, "Thank you, Sir."

"That's better, slut," he said as he tossed the rope to the side and repositioned them both so that she was half draped across his upper body. 

They stayed like that for a bit, not speaking at all. She drifted in and out of reality. Wondered for a moment if there really was such a thing. At the moment she was not so sure. Especially when she would have sworn that he kissed her forehead and whispered "Good girl."

***

When he was certain she was asleep, he rolled her onto her side and snuck from the room. He headed first to the bathroom, but his half hard cock made that one damned difficult. 

Then he slipped quietly into Monika's room. He knelt next to her little bed and felt that all too familiar tightening in his chest. The same one that he had gotten since the moment he saw that first grainy grey photo of the blob that would become his child. The same one that choked him and brought tears to his eyes from the moment the nurse handed her to him. 

When she slept, she was just like any other child. He could almost picture her laughing and talking with other children on the school playground. Imagine her going on a first date. Graduating college. Smiling up at him as he walked her down the aisle. He bit back the pain and tears. He was not certain if any of that was in his child's future. 

He thought about the woman he had left in that big bed. The bed that had greeted generations of brides. The bed in which generations had been made and born. Did she hold the key? Was it possible that she might be able to unlock his daughter's world? Help him to bridge the chasm that separated them? 

He knew he had gotten carried away. Had gone too far. Again. But every time he was around her, she just seemed to push his buttons. Unleash the pain and angry, the beast which dwelled inside of him. But he knew he had to get that under control and quickly. 

Too much was riding on this. Not just his brothers' futures. Or even his parents'. He knew his father's dreams, but as long as Monika and he needed them, he knew they would remain just that...dreams. But most importantly this little girl's future was at stake. He had already lost one mother for her. He could not afford to be the reason that another abandoned her. 

He remembered them in the car that afternoon. The way that their heads are bent together over than tablet. The way that his daughter rocked so happily in her boaster seat as the woman smiled and laughed at her. That was what was important, he reminded himself. A mother for Monika. One that might have the very expertize necessary to save his daughter.

He brushed the soft brown curls back from her forehead. Even in her sleep she frowned and turned away from him in the gentle glow of her night light. His heart broke. When would he ever learn? He could never be enough. Not for the women he loved. He had not been able to soften the pain when his mother needed him most. He had certainly not been able to reach Greta. Now even his own daughter turned away from him. Was it any wonder that she would too?

"I chose Mikael," he could almost hear the words. Almost believe for a single heart beat that she had meant them. But he knew better. It was just a temporary infatuation with the bad boy. It would pass...all too quickly. And he would once more be left locked alone, on the outside looking in. 

"I promise you, baby girl, Papa will do whatever it takes. I won't let you down again," he swore as he resisted the urge to touch her just once more. Instead he rose and walked across the room, stood in the door way for a long moment, just watching her sleep. And wondering about all those what ifs in this life. 

His eyes were cloudy by the time he turned and ran into the wall that was his 'baby' brother. "Everything all right?" he asked stiffly. 

Mikael clinched his fists by his side. He was not in the best of moods anyway after the way he lost control with her. He certainly did not need Bjorn reminding him of that. "Nothing I can't handle. You making it a habit to hang out in hallways these days?"

Bjorn smiled and shrugged, "Just needed to pee, man."

"Yeah, well, I was heading downstairs to get some water, so if you don't mind?" he replied as he tried to shove past him. 

"Don't forget to bring some back for..."

Mikael spun around. He shoved Bjorn against the wall, pinned him with his forearm across the chest, "I do not need you tell me my responsibilities, Baby brother."

Bjorn's nose flared as he met Mikael's gaze, "Are you sure about that?"

Mikael was certain that Bjorn's face would not have been quite so pretty tomorrow had not the other door opened. Sven stood sleepy in the doorway, "Enough. Both of you. Before you wake the child or the woman." He turned first to Bjorn, "You need sleep so go fucking get it. You think she's going to be pleased if you look like shit tomorrow too?"

Bjorn snorted as Mikael released the arm lock from across his body. He stared at both of them for a long moment, before he disappeared back into his room. Sven shook his head at his disappearing back, "Seems baby brother is not so whippy on the whole sharing thing when it is not his turn."

Mikael laughed sardonically, "I still have not figured him out. Why the hell would he even want to when he could have any fucking woman he wanted?"

Sven's face darkened for a moment, "Too many of Mama's fancy fairy tales. Remember by the time that he was old enough to remember much of anything she had come to terms with things. Everything in his world always was the roses and never the thrones."

Mikael's throat tightened at his own childhood memories, "Stig should not have allowed Mama her own way with that one. He would have been better off if he had come to sea sooner...or maybe not at all."

Sven sighed as he looked at that closed door, "He did what he thought was best at the time. Who are we to judge him for that?"

Mikael nodded, "Well, good night, big brother. Like I said I was just going downstairs for some water."

Sven laughed, "Remind me and we will pick up one of those mini-fridge things the next time we are in the city."

"What? And ruin the whole doom and gloom atmosphere in there? Mama's damned quilt is bad enough without some fucking mini-bar contraption," he joked.

Sven laughed, "I don't know maybe get Olaf to hide it under a spanking bench?"

Mikael chuckled, "Don't give the old man any ideas. He spends enough damned time in that workshop as it is."

"It is good to see you laugh, little brother."

"Not like you do it very much either, big brother," he replied.

Sven shrugged, "I don't know maybe we will both have something to laugh about," he said as he stared at the closed bedroom door once more. "Well good night."

Mikael nodded and headed down stairs. It was anything but...a good night. Well, other than those words echoing so clearly in his mind..."I chose Mikael." If only...but his was a life time of 'if onlys.'



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 03



Kirsty smiled as she watched Monika swing on her play set. The day was chilly and a bit grey. Those dark clouds over head were just another reminder of him...and last night. She dropped her head and toyed with a blade of tall brown grass. Even that would be gone soon, hidden under the white of snow, she mused. 

Breakfast this morning had been tense to say the least. Unlike the café yesterday or dinner last night, everyone was not talking all at once. In fact, no one talked at all really. She caught Bjorn looking at her across the table a couple of times. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it did not seem to work. Those dark circles were still present beneath his green eyes too. 

Sven too did not have much to say, only answering his uncle's questions a couple of times. Or she assumed they were questions. She would talk to Petrine when she came out of the greenhouse. Maybe she could order an online language course. She was certainly tired of not knowing what the people around her were saying.

Of course, he was the most silent. Although that was not all that unusual. He sat directly across the table from her. Never once did he look up though. Damn, the man. She had woken up alone in that damned monstrosity that passed for her bed. Torture device was more like it. Hell, her whole fucking bedroom was. 

The bed with its four huge posters and metal rings all around it. She remembered photos on that site of women suspended with rope in mid-air. She bet they could do that there. So why did that idea excite her as much as it frightened her? 

She had explored the room a bit after she finally found the energy to get out of bed...and forced her shaky legs to work. The wardrobe she had come to realize could double as a St. Andrew's Cross with three of those rings across the top as anchors for roping. To make it worse the ancient mirrors on the doors would reflect everything back to her. She would see every blow before it even hit...if her eyes were open anyway. 

And that damned chair...the one that she had thought at first was some oversized captain's one. It was more like a fucking throne. She had shivered as she ran her hands across its ancient wood. It too had three rings. On at the very top of the high back, through a laughing Loki's nose. The other two at the ends of the arms through the snouts of dogs, or she thought they were supposed to be dogs anyway.

Of course, the one thing she had wanted to explore the most: that damned trunk, which she supposed was their 'toy box' only larger than the one on the boat. It had been locked when she woke up. So besides the rope and that horrid tawse she had no idea what else might be in store for her. 

She had jumped up from the floor and wrapped the quilt tighter about her when the door to her room opened. It was only Petrine though. Only her mother. Kirsty looked once more towards the closed doors of the greenhouse. The woman had disappeared in there over an hour ago and she had no idea what she was doing. She thought about knocking, making certain that everything was all right. But she was in charge of Monika just then. 

Thinking about that room...that was now hers...but it had been this woman's before. Mikael's words from last night about the things his parents might have done in there, well, maybe disturbing Petrine was not the best idea after all. Talking about her marriage and how it worked with the woman had been bad enough yesterday, that was most definitely one conversation she was not ready for. 

BDSM? Bondage. Domination. Submission. Masochism. She had checked all the boxes last night in that room with him. She shifted on the hard, cold ground where she sat. She was still sore this morning. Walking was not easy. Then again neither was sitting. Was it from the stiff leather of the tawse that he had used, not on her bottom, but on her...front? Or was it from his fingers and tongue stuffing her fuller and fuller, more than most cocks ever could? 

Pain slut. His words tormented her. She had had enough trouble trying to come to terms with her need to submit to a man in this feminist world in which she lived. But she had never for once thought that final M masochist would apply to her. She would have sworn that pain did nothing for her. Until last night...

She fought back tears as she looked around her. Monika had moved on to her sandbox that was protected from the elements beneath a play house that rose a good five feet above it. The whole thing showed such careful planning and construction. She would have loved to have had such a thing with 'her kids.'

'Her kids,' her clients she should say. Her hand rested on her coat just over her lower abdomen as she watched the little girl play. They had never been hers. All of them had merely been borrowed for an hour once a week or so. Calling them that was just her way of making her life seem like it meant something, like she had some purpose. 

But today another therapist would simply step in and take over where she left off. Some of them would not even notice. For others, of course, the transition would be much harder, but she knew that they too would adjust eventually. She was so easily replaceable. She always had been. The email from her supervisor authorizing her sabbatical just proved that. 

Now there really was nothing tying her to that old life. Her flat mates had confirmed that they would be happy to look after Little Miss. Actually they had begged and pleaded if they could keep her. Kirsty still was not sure about that though. Even though Petrine had a couple of cats, mousers as she called them, this place was more than large even for Little Miss to join the family. 

This place...the Holding. It truly was breath-taking. Petrine, Monika and she had wondered around a bit more after they had cleared up the breakfast things. It was acres and acres, one of the larger islands in this area. Most of it remained fully wooded though there were a couple of good sized fields like this one which housed Petrine's greenhouse and Monika's play area. Another housed Olaf's cabin and a wood working shop. A third was simply blanketed with late autumn wildflowers. 

This place was so beautiful and peaceful. Peaceful in a way that she had craved her whole life. While she knew that she was not on the autistic spectrum, Kirsty had always wondered if something was not wrong with her. Sensory processing disorder perhaps? London had just always been too much. Too loud. Too many people. All rushing around, most with no real place to go or be. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned her head back and inhaled the fresh clean scent of pine and sea. It reminded her of them.

She forced her eyes open again though they seemed so fucking heavy right now. She had no idea how much sleep she had gotten last night. But this felt unlike any exhaustion she had ever known. Not even after her rare all night binge in uni with her girlfriends had she felt this...She frowned as she tried to find the words to describe it. Tired? Yes, more like exhausted, knackered. 

But at the same time her whole body thrummed with some weird energy. She supposed it must be something like what her kids with ADHD, hyperactivity, felt like. Nervous energy. She just could not sit still or force her mind to focus, not for even a moment. The two were at complete odds and it felt like they were warring inside of her, like they might even tear her body apart in this battle. 

She felt like her whole skin just did not fit...like it was itchy and scratchy all over. To make it worse, one minute she was freezing cold and the next she was too hot. She reached up and felt her forehead. She did not feel feverish, but still perhaps that was it. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She had after all just been through an ordeal that would weaken most people's immune system. Kidnapped and taken hundreds...a thousand miles from home?

Home? Just that word made her want to burst into tears. What was it anyway? Certainly not the damned one bedroom in a flat she shared with two other women to whom she barely spoke. Not the boarding schools that she had been sent to from the time she was seven, so that her parents could concentrate upon what was truly important...their careers as consultants, doctors in the vast National Health Service. Hell, not even the large brick home in one of the better neighborhoods in north London where she had lived on school holidays, where her earliest memories of nannies and housekeepers were formed. 

She shook herself. What was wrong with her? She had thought after speaking with Bjorn and Petrine yesterday that she was coming to terms with everything. Every? Thing? Kidnapping? Being married...to three men? Hot sex unlike any she had ever had...with not one partner...but three. She supposed she could count Mikael...even if it was not intercourse as such. And kinky bondage, domination, submission and now even masochism. 

Fuck her ex-boyfriend Raj for giving her that damned tablet as his final present on Valentine's Day...just a couple of weeks before informing her that he was going to marry his cousin from India. Fuck those damned e-books that had gotten her so worked up about BDSM. Fuck Captive Brides most of all. And especially fuck Raquel Graffen and her sick imagination about Dom brothers who captured women to seduce and marry them. And fuck, her new reality where that was no longer just fiction.

She shivered. But it was from more than just the cold that seemed suddenly to be overwhelming. But this time it was not a single one, she was actually shaking. Her whole body trembling as if she had a high fever and chills. 

"Kirsty?" she heard the soft voice and looked up. Her mind clouded even more just then. The older woman with the long silver hair and kind green eyes looked down at her. She knew that she should recognize her. That she knew this woman, but her name escaped her. "Look at me, Kirsty," the woman commanded. Commands? She was good at those...wasn't she? It seemed that something else was missing. 

But right then she did not care, she was floating...just floating. She remembered this. Remembered him. Then it was not so fun anymore. She was falling. Falling so fucking fast. Everything around her was spinning so fucking fast like that ride at the fun fair.

Green eyes? Someone else had green eyes like that too? But she could not remember who just then. But it did not matter. "I think I maybe sick...have caught something," she tried to whisper though she was not certain any sound came out of her throat that was so dry at the moment. 

Warm arms wrapped about her then. She gave up and just leaned into them, closed her eyes.

***

Petrine looked at her daughter. "I'm going to fucking kill him," she swore. She looked over to where Monika was playing on the climbing frame. She could not leave either of them unattended. Not now. And there was no way she could carry this woman to the boat where her boys were probably all working on the nets. Olaf's cabin was just over the ridge, but if the damned man was in his wood working shop then he would not hear her screams over the machinery. 

But she had to try. She took off her own coat and wrapped it around the younger woman, "Everything will be all right, Kirsty," she tapped her face lightly, just enough to rouse her and get her to open her eyes. "Listen to me, sweetie. This is drop, just sub drop, that's all," she did not add that it was the worst she had ever seen or let on how scared she really was. Sub drop was after all...shock. The body's response to trauma. "Damn, Mikael. Damn him to hell," she whispered under her breath as she began to scream at the top of her lungs..."Help!"

Monika looked up. She could see her granddaughter beginning to panic, but what option did she have right now? She could not leave either of them. She felt tears forming in her eyes as panic rose. She knew what to do...of course she did. She had dealt with this herself a few times...though never this bad. 

But other than keeping her as warm as possible with her coat, there was not much she could do. The house was too far. She probably could not even get the girl to her greenhouse...although she should try. Water...she needed water, but that too was at the house. Chocolate? Herb tea? All of it was out of reach just then. Especially what she needed most...her son's comfort. Fuck him. She was going to lay in to Mikael's ass when she saw him.

She opened her mouth to try screaming again when he appeared out of the trees. "What is it, Mama?" he yelled as he continued towards them. She noticed that Bjorn was only a couple of steps behind her middle son.

"What's wrong?" he panted. "Monika seems fine," he shrugged.

It was the last thing that Petrine wanted to hear from her son just then. Bjorn leaned down next to her, he seemed more in tune with the situation though he did not speak. She passed the woman's limp body off to her youngest son as she stood up. 

She was not a small woman at five foot eleven inches, but her sons, all of them, towered over her. But right now, that did not matter at all. She poked him in the chest. "Your daughter is fine, Mikael. It is your wife you should be fucking worried about. What the hell were you thinking? She is your WIFE. Not one of your whores. Or those pathetic subs you play with in the clubs. Where all you have to do is hand them a bottle of water, wrap a blanket over their shoulders and give them a couple of pats...'there, there.' It is fucking called...after care. Have you never fucking heard of it?"

Her son's face clouded over as he looked from her red face to the ground where his younger brother was holding the girl and brushing her red hair back out of her face. The pained look in Mikael's eyes that were so fucking much like his father's almost made her regret her harsh words...almost...but only for a moment. 

Then Sven appeared out of the woods in one direction and Olaf from the other. Both men spoke at the same time, "What is it? What's the matter?" Of course her husband had to add...'old woman' for good measure. 

"He's the matter. My idiot son, that's what's the matter." She stared at all of them in turn, "Have none of you ever heard of a little thing called sub drop? After care? Any of this ring a fucking bell?" She was so angry that she was trembling. She could see her sons all blushing as they looked at the ground. 

It was the first time that she had ever spoken openly about it. Any of it. She supposed that all of them had put the pieces together as they grew up. It was after all her husbands, who had introduced the boys to the BDSM clubs once they were old enough. Places like Amsterdam and Saint Petersburg had some of the best.

But she supposed that none of them wanted to connect the dots. Wanted to admit to themselves that if their fathers...then their mother? Maybe she should have forced the issue sooner though. Made certain that they saw things from the woman's perspective. The submissive's. And she probably was not doing any of this right. But she was mad right now. Madder than she had been... in a long time. 

"Bjorn, help me get her to the house," she commanded. "Mikael, take care of your child."

Then she was spinning. Until she stared up into the dark grey eyes of her husband. She recognized that color. Knew that she was not the only one who was mad at the moment. Well, that was just too fucking bad. Whatever the Old Man had to say would wait. Right now, she needed to get the girl back to the house. See to her properly. 

His eyes never left her face as he spoke, "Sven help Mikael take your wife back to the house. Son, you know what needs to be done. Bjorn, watch your niece for a few minutes. Your mother and I need to 'talk'." 

Petrine knew that she should listen. She had not seen this man like this in...a very, very, very long time. Maybe too long considering that she did not have the wisdom to shut up while she could. She shook her head, "No, Bjorn and I can manage. Monika is scared. She needs her father."

He leaned in even closer. He was quiet when he spoke, too quiet. "As you told our son last night, right now his wife needs him more." He crowded even closer into her personal space, brought his face right next to hers until she could feel his whiskers abrade her cheek. "Open your mouth again, Rachel, and it is double. Do you understand me?" 

He drew back and all it took was a look to send them all into action. Though Mikael's shoulders were slumped and he would not look at any of them, he reached for the woman. Bjorn drew her tighter into his arms and shook his head, "No, I'll take her."

"No, this is Mikael's job and you know that, son. Besides your mother is right," he said as he looked over to where the little girl was cowered in the corner of the sandbox. "Monika is frightened. And besides her father, she likes you best. Give your wife to your brothers, they can manage."

Petrine could see that he wanted to argue. She smiled...at least her youngest had some sense. Then again she had had more of a hand in raising him so of course it was logical that he could see things more from a woman's perspective. 

But her smile froze when she saw him looking at her. Bjorn reluctantly released his burden to his brothers and stood up to go to his niece. Mikael and Sven draped her arms over their shoulders and half carried and half dragged the semi-conscious woman towards the house. She noticed that Sven's face was almost as dark as Bjorn's. 

But neither of her sons' came anywhere close to the dark grey that flashed in his eyes. That was when she realized. She was in trouble. Big trouble as he crooked his fingers and motioned for her to follow him. She thought about running. It would not be the first time. Maybe she could even out pace him...this time. She was close to a decade younger after all. But then what? Run where? And if speaking would warrant double, what additional punishment would running earn her? 

She sighed. No, it was best to go with him. To get this over with. As quickly as she could. Although she doubted very seriously that it would be all that quick or that it would be over with any time soon. She would likely need extra cushions for a few days from the looks in those eyes. For the first time, she really felt fear. It had been almost thirty years since she had faced a real punishment, but something told her that was about to end. 

***

Mikael stared at the woman...his wife. Their wife, he reminded himself as Sven pulled back the quilt and helped him get her into the bed. 

Damn it, his mother was right. He had screwed up. Big time. And while no one had ever actually died of sub drop...how would anyone know though? This was as bad as he had ever seen it. "Fuck," he cursed as he pulled her boots off. He messaged her feet, trying to get circulation back to her extremities. 

"I'll grab what you need downstairs," Sven said as he headed towards the door. 

And wouldn't you know it, Mama had to let him have it in front of his brothers. Not that he did not deserve it. He should have known better. He had been playing these games for close to fifteen years. But Mama was right about that too...dealing with drop in a casual play partner was very different. Besides adequate hydration, which idiot that he was, he had not even seen to that last night, thinking that she looked so beautiful and peaceful as she slept. He had not wanted to disturb her. Or that was the excuse he had used for not waking her. Not looking at the anger, disgust and hatred in those eyes after what he had done, how far he had pushed her, was much closer to the truth.

Too fucking far, he sighed as he reached up and pulled down her skirt and tights in a single motion. He was not sure whether he wanted to laugh or scream when he noticed that she wore no panties beneath them. One thing about their wife...she was about as naturally submissive as they came. He had made that command without consulting either Sven or Bjorn. But then again too he had not really expected her to remember and obey something he had casually tossed out in the heat of the moment. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 03



He chuckled as he tossed the damn things across the room. He pulled the quilt up in case Sven came back. Not that his brother had not seen the goods. Hell, he had seen them before either he or Bjorn. But he still was not comfortable with any reminder that this wife was theirs...to share. Was that the problem? Had he pushed her so hard because he wanted to stand out, to be different from his brothers? 

She rolled over and opened her eyes, "Mik..." she began.

He placed his fingers over her lips which were cool to the touch. "Don't talk right now, Kirsty." He saw the confused look on her face. She really did have the most expressive features. One look and he could almost read her mind. "You dropped. Sub drop."  

She frowned for a moment then nodded as if she remembered. But was she remembering what had happened ... or what drop meant? "We...I...should have been more careful. We had no idea how you would react to pain." Or that level of pleasure, he thought but would not embarrass her right now with that reminder. 

"Knock, knock," Sven entered the open door carrying a tray. Mikael frowned as he brought it to the bed. "Back to the world of the living, Kirsten?" His older brother asked as he passed the tray to him and knelt next to the bed. 

Mikael flexed his fingers as he reached for the bottle of water. He tried to still his mind and cool his anger as he watched Sven brush hair back from her face with a smile. "How are you feeling?" 

She shook her head a bit as Mikael lifted her shoulders from the pillow and brought the bottle to her lips. He did not pull it away until she had emptied half of the bottle. Then he smiled at her as he picked up a piece of the dark chocolate from the tray. "Magic elixir. Open wide," he coaxed her. 

She shook her head but he brought it to her lips anyway. With a firm look, she opened and allowed him to feed it to her. He made her finish the bottle of water before he turned to his brother. "Thanks, but I have this from here."

He saw the dark look cross Sven's face and squared his shoulders, preparing for an argument. Instead his brother placed his hand on his shoulder, "Baby brother may not like to admit it, but this could have happened to any of us. You know as well as I do that drop varies from sub to sub." He looked to the woman in the bed, whose eyes were closed again, "We had no way of knowing hers would be this bad," he whispered.

Absolution was the last fucking thing he wanted from this man. He would have a thousand times preferred that Sven smash his fist into his face. But this was worse, much worse. He shook his head so violently that he dislodged his brother's hand. 

He lashed out, "I should have known. It probably was not the first time. When I went down into your cabin yesterday to tell her we were docking, she had been crying. So yeah, big brother, maybe it could have happened to any of us. Maybe it already did with you."

He saw Sven's hands fist at his side. He prepared for what was to come. But a fight was just what he wanted. And the way he felt right now, he would take them both on. His father too. 

But the small moan from that bundle in the bed pre-empted whatever release he might have found by slamming his fist into his brother's face. Sven and he both looked towards the bed where she tossed and turned restlessly. "Look after her," was all his brother said as he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Mikael climbed back onto the bed next to her. He debated whether to leave her be, but right now it was more than just sleep which she needed. He reached down and pulled her sweater over her head. She woke up and stared at him, "Mikael?"

Her voice was stronger this time so that was good sign at least. He lifted her enough to undo her bra and slide it down her arms. She reached for the edge of the quilt and pulled it almost to her chin. The blush on her cheeks, another good sign, told him that it was more than the chills that prompted her actions. 

He reached over for the herb tea that was also on the tray. It was one of his mother's special blends. Was this its true purpose? His mother. It was one thing to suspect. Another to pretend the way his brothers did. But damn it, having your mother lecture you on the Dom rules...in front of your father, brothers and wife. 

"Here, take a sip of this," he said as he leaned down and propped her up. He brought the cup to her lips and she sipped slowly. 

"Thank you," she whispered as she tried to smile.

Fuck, he deserved it all...and worse. He helped her to finish half of the cup before he placed it back on the tray, "More chocolate? More water?"

She shook her head, "No, I'm fine. I don't know what happened," she had a puzzled look on her face. "Maybe I am coming down with something."

He placed the tray on the floor, close enough that he could easily reach it. Then he climbed into bed next to her. He knew she would not appreciate it much so he stayed fully clothed, only kicking off his boots before climbing on top of the quilt. He drew her into his arms. Held her as he had last night against his chest. 

He was glad that they were spooning, that way she could not see his eyes when he spoke, "It is drop, Kirsty."

She turned and looked at him funny, "Yeah, I remember. Well, a bit sketchy but your mom said that too." 

Mikael remembered a lot more that his mother had said and blushed as he shifted her back around in his arms. "I am sorry. It is my fault. When I came back last night you were sleeping so I did not wake you. Then this morning..." What could he say? The truth was that he had been in such a damned hurry to get out of her bed before she woke up that he had not given water or checking on her a second thought. 

She shook her head, "No, really, how were you to know?"

He chuckled, "A hell of a lot more than you would. I have only been playing these games for almost fifteen years." He felt her stiffen in his arms. Maybe he had not said that very well, "I mean I pushed you pretty hard last night."

Damn, did he love making this woman blush...even now. "How about you get some more rest and we'll talk when you wake up?" 

She nodded as she closed her eyes. But then she started fidgeting and squirming like a fish on a hook. And all of it seemed to be her hips pushing back against his throbbing cock. Fuck, that was what got them into this trouble...thinking with his little head. 

He tried his damnedest to just ignore it. He tried drawing back so that there was a small space between them. But she just scooted back...three times, until he was on the edge of the bed with nowhere else to go. 

He considered his options...she needed rest. She needed to be held. Fuck, she needed that most from him. She needed...

His hand slid slowly up from where it rested safely over her hip. He lightly caressed just the underside of her breast through the blanket. He did that for a couple of minutes, nothing more. The quiet "Oh" that escaped her throat told him what he needed to know. 

He slipped his hand beneath the quilt until it brushed bare flesh. He spent several more minutes just simply lightly brushing his fingers in ever smaller circles, homing in upon her nipple. Her hips increased their now frantic rubbing. But he noticed then that it was not just his cock that she was rubbing, her own thighs seemed to be rubbing against one another. There was very little doubt now what she needed...but not forced ones this time.

He turned her slightly as he allowed his fingers to feather across her nipple. It was hard, impossibly taut. He looked into those eyes as they half opened. She was bone-fucking tired. He saw that. But her body was not letting her truly rest. "I have no right to ask...but let me give you what you need, Kirsty. Please."

She frowned and shook her head, "What I need? I don't understand."

His arm underneath her shifted just enough that his hand rested upon her bare mound. She shook her head, "No, there's no way. I couldn't possibly. Not after..."

He leaned and softly whispered against her, "Not after the way you came for me last night. The hundreds of times I forced your body to come...over and over and over." He softly licked the edge of her ear, "Not like that, no, that is not what you need right now, but you do need this."

He rolled her beneath him as he smiled down at her. He felt like a hypocrite. A liar and an asshole as he asked once, "Trust me."

She smiled softly and moved against him, "Of course."

Mikael closed his eyes. What the fuck? That was the last thing he truly wanted or needed to hear from her. She should be hitting him. Throwing things at him. Screaming and calling him a bastard. Not this complete surrender again.

But this time he could not afford to let it get under his skin. That had been his mistake last night. Dom Rule Number Three: you cannot control anyone else, unless you can first control yourself. And he had forgotten that. But he swore as he had to Monika last night...not again. He would not mess this up for them again. For any of them.

He breathed deeply. Focus on just getting the job done. Take care of business. She is just a sub with a need. You have played with hundreds of them. He tried with all his being to push down that tiny voice that he had been so successfully ignoring for so long, when it whispered...'this is not play and she is not just any sub.'

His fingers continued to toy and lightly caress her nipple as he bent down and began to trail kisses down her throat and over her shoulders. By the time he got to the soft swell of her breast, her hips were arching against his hand that merely rested its weight softly top her pubic bone. He knew that it would take just one touch and she would be off...he had seen that time and time again last night. 

But that was not what she needed this time. And this was about what she needed. Nothing more, he tried to convince himself. 

He ran his tongue across the soft skin. This time he allowed himself to take the time to play dot-to-dot with some of the large freckles, twinkling like stars in the constellation of her milky breast. He closed his eyes, 'Bad choice of words, bud,' he chided himself at the thought of those soft mounds hard and full with milk, her tummy round with child. He pulled himself back from the next thoughts...before it was too late.

This woman got to him. Worse than any other ever had. But he could not allow that to show, to control him. Dom Rule Number Three became a mantra in his head as he lathe both breasts with equal attention. Equal attention...would even that ever be enough with him? And hadn't he done everything he could to push her away...make certain that he did not receive even that?

He raised up slowly, looking down on her. Her eyes were closed, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest gave no doubt that the woman was most definitely not asleep. That thought was confirmed a second later when she opened them, he chuckled, "You pout worse than Monika. Do you know that, woman?" 

He bent and did something else he sworn he would not do...he kissed her. Really kissed her. Not bite. Not a quick peck. A deep and thorough conquering of her mouth. And while he did, he allowed his hands free roam over that ripe, lush body of hers. 

He would not have thought this woman his type physically. Greta had been petite, almost anorexic, as had most of the subs and pros that he occasionally frequented. But he was discovering that there was something to be said for a lover that was softer, fuller, and curvier. 

He could go on like this all afternoon, he realized. It was a sobering thought. After last night, how could he still not be satisfied? How many times had he made this woman come? How many times had she even satisfied his dark fantasy? That sweet pussy gushing its juices all over his face. That had been his intent now as well...though not as violently as he had used her last night. 

But he realized now that would be a mistake. The point of this was to get her off...quickly...and then let her sleep for a bit. If he tasted her, all bets would be off. As much as he wanted to think he could remain in control, just the thought of her tight pussy coming on his tongue, her cunt juices coating his face had him granite hard inside his jeans. No, eating her out to another shattering orgasm was not the right choice...not this time. 

He lay back down on his side next to her, drew her into his embrace as he returned to kissing her lips. It was not just the woman's cunt which tasted delightfully sweet. Kissing had never held much fascination for him, foreplay to be quickly gotten out of the way for your partner's sake. But this...this was a banquet all its own. 

He ran his thumb teasingly across the hard nub of her nipple. Then the other. When she arched against him and moaned into his mouth, he swore it was almost as if she had... But that was not possible. Was it? 

But it did remind him the point of all this as he ran his hand slowly down her body, across that tummy. He chided himself once more as fantasies of it round and full with child filled his mind. He hoped his brothers would hurry up and get the job done. 'No, you don't,' whispered that damned traitor in his head. He brought it to heel before it forced him to truths that he did not want to face. 

By the time that his finger slipped between her folds, she slick, wet, and oh so fucking ready. Even as light as this touch was she lifted her hips off of the bed. Her moans into his mouth increased. Her breathing became increasingly shallow as his thumb brushed the sweet flesh...once...twice... He had barely began the third gently brush across her clit when her whole body shook in his arms. This time she screamed into his mouth. 

His lips crushed hers as he swallowed every bit of it. Not because he gave a damn about the noise. Let her scream the whole fucking Holding down for all he cared. No, he wanted to take that energy deep inside of him. Wanted to store it, remember it. Because never again would he allow himself to lose control as he had last night.

His mother was right. This was their wife and she deserved better. More. He would find a way...somehow to bury his darkness, to hide that bad boy. He would give her what she needed, not what he wanted. He would control his demons...he would. As he drew the magic of her screams deep inside as a reserve when that was not so easy, when he wanted to push her limits, when he needed more than she would ever give. This kiss, these screams would have to be enough. 

He held her body as the tremors became aftershocks. He softened the kiss. But still his finger rested unmoving over her clitoris. When she opened those eyes, they were incredibly sexy and sleepy. Satisfied was the only word to cover it...and that made him want to roar. He had done that, given that to this woman. 

"Better?" he chuckled as he kissed her forehead and drew her closer to his body. She only nodded as she snuggled tighter into him. He shook his head as he slowly drew that finger back. She whimpered. She actually fucking whimpered. He could not resist a soft swat to her bottom, "Greedy," he teased.

"Yeah," she muttered against his chest, "And whose fault is that, I wonder?" He shook his head and chuckled. He was certain she would drift quickly off to sleep then. 

But instead she once more fidgeted and moved. "You really are. Greedy. No more. You need sleep more than you need to come again," he admonished.

She opened her eyes, "That is debatable, Sir. But the problem is not that. The problem is your shirt."

He laughed, a full throaty belly busting one that echoed around the room. "Now you tell me? Why didn't you say that earlier?"

She shrugged as she toyed with the top button of that shirt, "And miss out on what you offered? Do I look stupid to you?"

He remembered what Sven had said in the hall last night...having something to laugh about. Maybe. Just maybe, he was right. "Take it off," she demanded. 

Mikael froze for a moment. Another of the things that he had sworn. To keep his clothes on at all times...with her too. It was a boundary that he had not really crossed...since... Sure it might only be a shirt. But he felt it. He had already kissed her. Now this. The woman was chipping away at all of his promises, his safety zone...his wall. 

So why the fuck was his fingers pulling the rough wool from the waistband of his jeans even as hers was working the third button from the top. And why the fuck did those eyes just get so fucking wide like a little child on Christmas morning? 

Her hand slipped inside it as he was left to finish the job. Her fingers ran across the hard plains of his heated skin until he was certain he would go up in flames. He forced himself to remain calm as he shrugged out of it. Her head barely moved as she clung tightly about his waist. And those fingers were driving him insane as she tugged and toyed with the hairs that covered his chest. 

He playfully swatted her bottom as he once more arranged them back comfortably on the pillows. But she immediately shifted her head, "Nah-uh, I want a fuzzy pillow," she pronounced with finality as she moved her head to the center of his chest. Could she hear how fast his heart was beating? Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He covered her hands with his own, just to keep them still, a desperate attempt to keep what little remained of his sanity. 

Within moments, she was asleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest and the soft mewing almost of kitten told him that her dreams were sweet. But he was left alone. Wide awake...with his demons. And the battle to control them...before he did anything else he would regret.

***

Olaf followed her into his cabin, holding open the door. He wanted to laugh at the look she gave him as she entered. His wife was mad. So be it. So was he. And it was about damned time that the woman remembered she was his sub as well as his wife and best friend. She had not just stepped over the line. She had fucking blown the damned thing up.

He sighed, but that was his fault too. His and Stig's. All of theirs really, but especially his. He should have drawn these lines long ago. He had let this woman reign over them all for way too long. And that only made this punishment harder. Maybe that was as it should be...as much a punishment to him as to her. But he would think about that later. Right now, he had a battle to win. 

"That boy was out of line, Olaf. You know that," she said as she twirled around to face him even before he could close the door. 

He did so quickly. Their sons did not need to hear what transpired between them...any more than they needed their mother broadcasting the truth of the true nature of their relationship, something that all of them had been wilfully ignorant of...until she opened that kissable mouth a few minutes ago. 

"Did I give you permission to speak, Rachel?" his only chance of re-establishing boundaries that should have never become this blurred in the first place was to take full charge now. 

She glared at him and he covered the few feet between them, maintaining her gaze the whole way. "Whether or not our son screwed up with his sub is beside the point right now. What is the point is that I have fucked up with mine. And more importantly that fuck up has hurt our sons and their wife."

"But..." she began. He used his fingers and thumb to collar her mouth, holding it open so that she could no longer speaker. 

"Did I not make myself clear, Rachel? You do NOT have permission to speak right now. You have said way too fucking much already this morning. Now it is your turn to listen. To some truths...some hard ones...that we should have said long ago, old woman," he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. 

This was harder than he had thought. Especially knowing that the responsibility rested squarely on his shoulders. But that did not change what must be done now. And it really must be done. He opened them again and once more steeled his own emotions...you cannot control your sub, if first you cannot control yourself...he reminded himself. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 03



"Here's a piece of information for you, sweetheart. Doms are human too. That means we are going to fucking make mistakes. And all that shit about...safe, sane and consensual...that only works if you are playing. Not that it isn't a good thing in clubs or casual situations, but it simply does not apply in a real relationship. Because sorry, sweetie, but I keep forgetting to drag out that big old Dom bible we all are issue when I take you to bed."

He got closer still, invaded her space, used his superior size to intimidate her, to remind her of just who she was...something she had forgotten long ago. "Right now, I am in no position to judge our sons for how they handle their wife, considering how mine behaved."

He turned her head so that their eyes met head on, "Tell me woman, do you really think that you helped our daughter to adjust to her fate, to our way of life, by lecturing her husband on how to be a good Dom in front of her?"

He released her jaw then, stepped back just a fraction and watched her massage her the flesh. After a moment, she looked up at him, that fire still blazed there. Not that he did not love this woman's fires. He did, they all had. But there were limits. There must always be limits...and she had crossed them.

"Someone has to..." she began.

"What? Protect her? That is not your place, Rachel. You might have forgotten, old woman, but you are a sub too." He shook his head as he stepped forward once more, "No one is denying that you are a strong woman. And brilliant one even. That's why I love you so fucking much. Too fucking much maybe."

"But this has to stop. Now. We have all let this go on way to fucking long, sweetheart. After Bjorn was born..." his voice trailed off. Even after all this time, he saw that pain in her beautiful face as fresh as that day almost thirty years ago. 

This time though he steeled himself. He needed to do what was best for her...not what she wanted. That was the mistake they had all made for so fucking long. And it had to stop...now. Before she hurt others...anymore perhaps than she already had. And that meant that it was time for some truth between them. The hard truth.

"We were all so fucking afraid we would lose you. You just kept drifting further and further away from us. From the children too. So we let you have your way. Forced Mikael to remain with you and Bjorn when he wanted to join us at sea as much as Sven had. But we convinced the poor kid that his mother needed him here more. We put a weight on that little boy's shoulders that should have never been his to bare."

He choked back pain...pain that was old, bitter and sour, like the taste of vomit the next morning after getting shit faced drunk and throwing up who knows where. Hell, that was what he wanted just then, but he would not allow himself. He never had taken the easy that Andreas had, trying to forget it all in the bottom of a bottle. But now he was the only one left, the one who had to pay for all their mistakes.

He shook his head, "Maybe we were even right. Maybe letting you keep Mikael and especially Bjorn as long as we did helped to heal those wounds. You came to terms with it. We all tried to. But there was a price to pay. There always is."

He sighed heavily, "The problem is, Rachel, we let this shit go on way too long. We let you get away with murder. We let you forget who you really are. What you are. You, my beautiful, amazingly strong, intelligent wife are still first and foremost my sub."

"Control, boundaries, rules are not just there because we Doms need our fucking egos stroked. They are there because you need them. Subs need them to feel safe, secure and loved. And we all forgot that...all of us."

"But we cannot afford to anymore. That girl does not need you to protect her. That is her husbands' jobs. She needs you to mentor her, to model good behavior her, to help her find her place here. And this morning you did anything but that. You undermined not just Mikael's authority with hers...but all of them. You sowed even more seeds of unrest among our sons."

He stood face to face with her, "You disappoint me, Rachel." 

He watched as those green eyes clouded over with tears, he saw the muscles of her throat work reflexively, trying to swallow back the emotion. And for the first time in a long time, he felt hope. That maybe it was not too late. That maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back...back to what they were, who they were always meant to be. 

"So my beautiful Alpha, we need to set some new rules, new boundaries. First of all, you will apologize to Kirsty and to our sons at dinner tonight. You will admit that you were out of line. No justifying, no hemming and hawing. You were wrong. Subs do not tell Doms how to do things. Period."

He watched her face as she considered his words, when she finally nodded slowly he felt that hope jump in his old chest once more. After forty fucking years, how did this woman still do that? But now was not the time to soften on her, he reached out and landed a solid barehanded slap on her butt. "You really have forgotten what you are, old woman. Never again nod or shake your head at me. The proper answer is 'Yes, Sir.' Maybe once in a rare while, 'No, Sir'." 

Her eyes really flared wide then, "What? You are the one who threw our dirty laundry out there. Made our sons face something they have been trying for most of their damned lives to ignore. So if you have no problem with them knowing the truth, then you can damned well live it in front of them from now on. And the proper response is?"

She inhaled deeply and dropped her eyes from his gaze, "Yes, Sir," she whispered. 

Maybe he should have been satisfied with that small progress but he was not. He lifted her chin and forced her to look him in the eye, "Did you say something, woman?"

That fire challenged him once more. He realized then that he was quite looking forward to re-training his beloved wife as his sub. Maybe it was wrong, but he also was quite pleased that this time...it would be to his standard. No sharing. No compromise. His wife...his submissive. And the little darling was in for more than one surprise along the way.

"Yes, Sir," she replied after a long pause. Louder this time. 

But not fast enough, as a second even harder blow found that jean clad bottom. "Number two...you will never again call them 'boys.' They are men and they are Doms. They have not been your boys in many, many years." He chuckled, "Hell, I am not sure if Sven ever was."

"Nonetheless, every time you call them 'boys' you will be punished. Ten the first time. Then twenty..."

"I know the drill. Then thirty. Forty and so on. I am not that old and senile, old man," she challenged.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled it. Hard. Until her head fell back and those eyes flared open. He leaned in and bit down hard on her neck, right over her pulse. He held it for a long moment as she squirmed. Not until she stilled at last did he release her. 

"I have never found 'brats' attractive, especially not sixty-three year old ones. Maybe that is my fault...mine and my brothers. But hear me now...it ends this morning. And sorry, Rachel, you have mistaken me for my soft ass brothers. I prefer exponential punishment...ten, twenty, forty, eighty, one-hundred and sixty, three-hundred and twenty... Do I need to keep going?"

He relished the way that those eyes flared in fear. Had he ever seen that look? Not since that first night on the ship when she had tried to take Andreas's head off with the hook and nearly put out Lars's eye in the process. 

"Now, you start to understand me, old woman. And don' think my arms are too old or weak to do it either. I spent fifty years at sea hauling nets and I still spend most days working with them in the shop. Don't think you can try me. I promise you these old arms can last a lot longer than that cute little butt of yours."

"Oh and yes, we need to get back out there and relieve Bjorn. He and Sven need to finish what they were doing on the boat. But then again too, I seem to remember that with you delaying your punishment only makes it worse...gives you time to think about it more."

He leaned in again, "But tonight...after dinner, after you apologize to all of us, this sweet ass is mine, old woman. To make my rules clear. You will politely excuse yourself. You will come back here and shower. You will then kneel, oh yes, I said kneel woman. On the floor...not the rug. And you will stay there until I join you. Then we will discuss what your punishment will be. Based on how serious this offence is...and it is. And on your behavior, your contrition, for the rest of this day. Is that understood, Rachel?"

She started to nod her head, but caught herself. "Yes, Sir." When it came out throaty and low, she tried again, "Yes, Sir."

"You are not getting a 'good girl.' You have a far ways to go to earn that one. Now get your cute ass moving," he said as he slapped it again. 

***

Kirsty stretched and rubbed her nose. Something was tickling it. She smiled as she remembered what. The man was full of surprises...and her fetish for hairy chests...'well, one in three ain't bad, right?' she chuckled. 

"Awake are we, sleepy head?" She looked up into eyes that were more silver than forebodding grey at that moment.

"Was I asleep very long?" her fingers could not help but enjoy the bounty of her discovery. And she was more than pleased that her little itchy shirt ploy had worked. So maybe he was not completely naked. Maybe they had not 'consummated' anything. But it was a baby step in that direction. A little brick out of that wall he had built around himself.

"A couple of hours. We need to get down to dinner soon. How are you feeling?" 

She stretched, making certain to rub her naked body against as much of his bare skin as she could. She frowned for a moment then smiled up at him, "I would say good, but not sure that covers it."

He landed another of those barehanded slaps on her butt. "Quit flirting."

She batted her eyes, "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Cock tease," he chuckled.

She was never sure where it came from. Shy was her normal mode of operation. But something...some thing...made her reach out and place her hand directly over the fly of his jeans. She smiled broadly to discover that this man was not as unmoved by her as he seemed. 

But her joy was short lived as he picked her hand up and brought it to rest on his shoulder. In that position with his covering it, she could not even play with his chest. "And no pouting either, woman." He sighed, "We need to talk."

She nodded and looked up at him. He wanted to talk...let him begin. But when he did it was not what she expected.

"Is my daughter autistic?"

The question itself did not surprise her. She had known they would get to this...eventually. It was his timing that surprised her. Why now? Like this? Naked in his arms...after? Well, just after.

But she had also prepared her answer and she stuck to it, "I am not a pediatrician or psychologist. I am not qualified to make a diagnosis."

"I did not ask for one. I don't even want one. Growing up in this family, the last thing Monika needs is another label to make her different. What I want is your honest opinion?" 

She sighed, she had had only a small taste of what it must be like 'growing up in this family' as he called it. And that still stung. But he had asked a valid question and he deserved the truth.

"As long as we are clear on that...then, yes. Yes, I believe that Monika fits somewhere on the autistic spectrum," she was surprised when she felt his chest move beneath her hand. The heavy exhale was as if a weight had been lifted from him. 

"I think I knew. At least from the moment we began to read about your job, what you do. The more I read the more I saw Monika," he was staring steadfastly at the ceiling as he spoke. 

She did not push, did not say anything. But neither did she make any attempt to move away out of his arms. She had been part of the team, who gave parents this news more than once. And while she was truthful that she was not qualified to make the actual diagnosis, she also did not tell him that she had served as one of the team, the panel that did. 

But this felt so fucking different. The child might not be hers...but in some weird way she felt the connection to the little girl as much as she did her father. Felt as if she belonged here...with them. But maybe she was just being foolish. There were so many questions still left. So many things unsettled between her and Mikael. Especially between them. 

It was several moments that they lay like that...she was uncertain what more to say or do. She knew the routine...give them time, don't push, and let them come to terms with it. But this was not 'they,' this was him...her husband. 

Or she liked to hope one day she could come to feel as close to him as she did to Bjorn...as drawn to him as Sven. But wasn't she already? Okay, maybe in some dark way she was not quite ready to handle...but...she fought back a giggle. She had spent way too much time with children when a Disney song popped into her head at a moment like this. 

He must have felt her move though because he looked down at her then. She wanted to reach up and brush back the moisture that glistened in his grey eyes. But she knew that would not be appreciated. He would not want to hear how it was all right, how she had seen even the strongest of men weep, throw chairs across the room, curse their gods, blame their wives and as many different responses as there were people over the years. All she wanted was to make it better somehow. 

"Can you help?" his voice was impossibly deep but it held the thread of hope that she sought to draw this man closer.

"That depends on what you are asking, Mikael," she dared not brush the tears that she doubted he even realized were on his cheek away. But she did battle his hold on her hand enough to lace her fingers through his, to offer a comforting squeeze.

"I cannot cure her. Autism is a life-long condition. A different way of experiencing the world in which we live," how trite that part of the speech she had heard hundreds of times sounded now...with him...in this moment. But then again she had never laid naked in anyone's arms when she gave it before.

"But can I offer treatments, options, therapies that can help you and her...and all of us to bridge the gap between our worlds...if that is what you are asking, then the answer is yes," she looked up at him, met that gaze, "If you will let me, if you trust me with your child, if I have your permission."

He chuckled and softly returned the squeeze of her fingers before bringing her hand to his lips, "If I did not...if we did not...you would not be here right now," he said.

She kicked his shin, "Thanks for the reminder about the Russian girl."

His eyes danced, "Which of my dumb ass brothers mentioned that you had competition?" He laughed again, "Dumb fuck...baby brother of course. That boy don't know when to shut up."

"Yes, well, sorry if you are disappointed," she pouted.

"What makes you think I am disappointed?" he said as he slapped her bottom once more. 

Then his face darkened and the serious one was back, "Truce? Can you and I call it a truce? I promise you I won't lose control like I did last night. Never again, you have my word on that."

She knew that should make her happy. So why the hell did she feel like she had just lost ground with this man? And why the fuck did it make her want to push his buttons? To see just how far she could go until he broke? 

But she simply nodded, "Truce, it is then."



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 04



WARNING/TRIGGERS: In this book, I slaughter some sacred cows of our culture:

1) Madonna/Whore - A mother has every right to be as sexual as she wants...as long as she keeps the dirty behind closed doors. Dirty = the main show, the act...not all signs of love, affection and normalcy. 

2) Old people make damned good lovers too - As our society ages, we need to re-think how we see aging. Especially with little blue happy pills. Just because someone is 40...50...or 90, don't mean they can't still do the dirty. 

3) SSC (Safe/Sane/Consensual) - is not the only way...or maybe even the best way in this lifestyle. What works for clubs and role play may NOT go far enough to protect the sub in a power exchange RELATIONSHIP. 

So be warned...last chapter stirred a hornets nest...and I have not changed a damned thing because of it...although you might be a bit surprised...

Sometimes...we should not be too quick to jump to judgment. 

***

Kirsty was not sure which of them was more reluctant, procrastinating harder. She had dressed in a pair of the jeans and a t-shirt she found in the wardrobe. She had brushed her hair and checked and double checked her appearance. She looked perfectly fine.

She felt...good. Deliciously sore still. And more than a bit disappointed. She and Mikael had spent the past hour talking. Just talking. She had pulled out her tablet. Shown him a few apps and programs that she felt were right for Monika. He had asked all the right questions. She had to admit rarely had she met a father as committed to his child. 

Not that most men were not good dads merely that the Big A word usually was so terrifying they did not know where to begin. They felt helpless, powerless to fix their child and ill-equipped. All too often those feelings led to frustrations, withdrawal from their child and abandonment, emotionally if not physically. But not Mikael. She admired that. And when they had gotten to talking, it was as easy, perhaps more so, than with Bjorn. 

So why did his repeated promises never to let the demons out again disappoint and bother her? Had he been right? About the bad boy thing? She would have never thought herself the type for such things. In fact, Sven's messages, theirs she supposed was more accurate, were the only ones that she had responded to for that very reason. Only because they were so polite and intelligent. There had been dozens, hundreds, from 'bad boy' types demanding instant submission. But theirs...had been merely friendly. 

Knowing what she did now, that all of them wrote messages at different times, she could almost laugh at how easy it would be to assign ownership. Sven, of course, was those two liners about where they were. Talking was not the man's forte, unless of course you counted dirty talk. But all of them had her number when it came to that. 

She watched him in the mirror as he began changing the sheets. It was as good an excuse as she could come up with for joining him, "Let me help with that."

He shrugged and smiled, "There are extra bedding stored in boxes under the bed." He explained as he tucked in one corner of the mattress and she did the opposite. 

She chuckled, "So my bedroom does not need to constantly smell of sex like the cabin did?"

He chuckled and she would have sworn the man blushed, "Something like that." They did the corners at the foot of the bed. Then he pulled another quilt this one as beautifully made as the other, but with a large red, orange and yellow sun in the middle of a light blue background. 

She ran her hands across it, "It is beautiful."

"Mama made several for us all, when she was..." he shrugged. "After Bjorn was born. She spent a lot of time with her flowers and sewing."

She wanted to question him more about his mother, about life here, but he smiled tightly and held out his hand. "Can't delay this anymore, I am afraid."

She shook her head, "What do you mean? It is dinner. Not an execution."

He sighed, "It would be if baby brother had his way."

She shook her head, "Why?"

He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. "You don't get how serious what happened is, do you?"

"No, it was drop. Of course, I have read about such things. But how is that such a big deal? And why would he blame you?"

"Because I fucked up," he smiled weakly. "And I deserve it." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Were it not for the whiskers she would have thought it more in line with something Bjorn would do. "I am sorry."

"For what? Is it really all that big a deal? Some water, a bit of chocolate, tea, and..." she felt the blush rising as she remembered what else her body had craved, but she was not going there right now. "A nap. And I am fine."

He chuckled, "You might have missed something in your little list." Kirsty felt her cheeks burn even more. "I should have done all of that last night. But just as importantly I should have checked in on you this morning. I pushed too hard last night. I am sorry for that too. As I said, I won't let my demons get out of control like that again."

It was as close to an opportunity as she was going to get. She screwed up her nerve and took a step closer to him. "What if you were right?" Her voice cracked and she looked down at the dark wood flooring as she felt the heat rise in her face. "What if I like your bad boy?"

He lifted her face gently with a finger beneath her chin, "I am sorry, Kirsty. Maybe someday. But not," he stammered for a moment before continuing, "Not until I know I can control it. Until then how about we work on becoming friends? On reaching Monika? On getting to know one another?"

He was shutting her down. She felt it. Knew it deep inside. And something told her that 'friendship' would be an even harder wall to knock down than 'bad boy' had been. Maybe he even knew that. Wanted to safely hide once more. 

Well, that was just too damned bad. She smiled sweetly and nodded her head. She had seduced one husband who wanted to be 'friends' first. She would find Mikael's buttons as surely as she had Bjorn's. She wanted to laugh hysterically, since when had sweet, innocent Kirsty Dickens turned into such a needy cunt? Since when did she use the 'C' word? 

Since she met her handsome, rough Nordic fisherman for innocent coffee and woke up to discover herself married to three of them. Three Doms. 

"Ready to face the firing squad?" he teased as he pulled her towards the door.

***

Petrine looked up from the table as they came down the stairs. Every head in the room, except her granddaughter's, swivelled towards them. Her youngest son turned a most unappealing shade of red around the ears as he tightly clinched his hands at his side. But her eldest was not much better as he stepped forward to wait at the foot of the stairs. His eyes glued to the woman as if searching for the tiniest sign of trouble. 

She sighed and shook her head. Like a bone to be fought over between dogs. She remembered it all too well. Worse yet, the damned Old Man was right. Her rash actions had only made the situation worse. Not that Kirsty did not need her assistance, the girl clearly had. She did not regret that. Only how she had done it. And Olaf could just live with that...as she crossed the room to the other side of the stairs.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she smiled.

Kirsty was the one, who stepped forward. Placing herself between Mikael and his older brother, she looked as much at him as she did at Petrine when she answered. "I am fine. Honestly."

Bjorn joined the crowd at the bottom of the steps and held out his hand, "We were all just worried."

Petrine smiled as she watched the woman step down one more step and reach out her hand. She first caressed Bjorn's cheek and then smiled at Sven, "I am perfectly fine. Mikael took great care of me," she blushed. 

Petrine wondered if she realized that she stood directly between the three of them. Her fingers never releasing Mikael's even as she caressed his brother. She smiled. Yes, they had chosen well. Now, she had something she needed to do...while she had the courage.

She smiled up at the younger woman, "Part of that is my fault, Kirsty. I am sorry. I did not handle the situation as I should have."

She sucked in her breath and looked first at Mikael. Her son was staring straight down at the step upon which he stood. How had she ever thought this man uncaring? She of all people should know the truth. The problem with her middle son was that he cared too damned much. And yet again, she had hurt him badly. Him, worse than the others...even Kirsty. 

"Mikael, I am sorry. What I said was truly out of line," those words came surprisingly easy because they were the truth. No doubt her son had messed up. So too had she. 

He shook his dark head and looked up sheepishly, "No, Mama, you were right. I was an idiot. Stupid. I deserved everything you said," he looked from brother to brother, "And worse."

Petrine shook her head, "No, Mikael, yelling at you like you were five years old did not help. It only made the situation worse." 

She paused and inhaled. Looking at the three of them as they stood there, she realized that the goddess damn Old Man was right about the other too. Somewhere over the past few decades, her 'boys' had grown into men. And as he had told her...damned fine ones too. Probably despite her more than because of her. 

This part was harder. Not because it was not equally true, but because of what it symbolized. She was passing some Rubicon along life's way. She was no longer just their mother. And as right as she knew it was to let them go...to let them grow and fulfil their destinies. That did not make it any easier. And all the 'reasons' why this was so long coming were nothing more than flimsy excuses. Damn, she really hated how right the man had to be sometimes. She had held them too tightly, too long, until she had held them back perhaps. But no more. 

Her voice trembled as she spoke. She fought back tears, "I owe all of you an apology. These old eyes have failed to see the truth that was right in front of me. None of you are my little 'boys' anymore. You have not been in a very long time. You are men...and as someone told me, damned fine ones too. No thanks to me."

She caught a smile on her husband's face as Sven took her hand, "No, Mama, we understand. You did what you needed and none of us blame you. You are an amazing mother and we are lucky as hell to have you."

"Damn it, don't go making the woman cry. She always burns dinner when she cries," she felt his arm about her waist and without even realizing what she was doing leaned into the man that had become as much her best friend as her husband and lover for the past few years. 

Her sons nodded and moved towards the table. All except Mikael, he hung back on that step. Even as Bjorn pulled Kirsty towards the table with his other hand. She saw the girl turn and look back at him. Mikael smiled weakly and shook his head, "I need to see to Monika."

The young woman frowned but nodded reluctantly as she followed Bjorn and Sven to the table. Yes, it was right. It was as it should be. 

But what of her? Where did she belong now? Sixty-three might seem old to all of them, but wasn't it just yesterday that she was the bride. Trying, alone, to find her way. To be what they needed without losing who she was. That road had not been easy. All the jealousy, just as she saw in her sons now. Then no sooner had they began to overcome that...when...

"Good girl," the tears slipped unbidden from her eyes. She shook her head as she looked into his eyes. How many times had she heard those words? Why could they still make her weak in the knees? Wet. And hold out the only lifeline she had in this new world where she no longer knew who or what she was. It had been a quarter of a century or more since she felt this lost and adrift. "We will talk later," he promised. "After your punishment."

She was glad there was no fishing hooks around at that moment. She wondered if her aim had gotten any better over the years. So why as lost and confused as she felt right now, why did those words thrill her more than they frightened her? 

"Fucking bastard," she cursed under her breath. The damned man just had to be right about all of it, didn't he? Because as much as she might want to deny it, he was right that too...it had been way too long since she had been what she was...a real sub. And not just a mouthy brat or a role player in the bedroom. She would have said that she had no idea what that even was anymore. But the tingles in her tummy told her that would be a lie. 

"Did you say something, old woman?" he whispered as he bit her ear lightly. Just enough to get her attention. 

"I said, Yes, Sir," she replied. And smiled...how long had it been since those words really meant something? They felt as natural now as they always had. 

He nodded with that smile, "I thought so. Now let me help you get dinner on the table before our sons riot."

***

Olaf watched them as he helped Petrine clear the dishes from the table. Mikael had spent the whole meal with Monika. He knew what his son was doing...separating himself from all of them even more. There was no doubt that the man had screwed up. That was not the issue. What his son was forgetting was Dom Rule Number One: Doms are human. You will screw up. Learn from it. But learning from it was not wallowing in self-pity. He would talk to him later.

Right now the dark storm which was blowing strongest was from their youngest. Maybe Bjorn was having the hardest time with all of this now because his childhood had been so damned charmed. Looking as his wife, he had to give the woman credit. She was a fighter. She had fought her way through more testosterone than he wanted to think about to make her own place here. She had fought back the pain of losing three men that she loved. And of course, she had fought the hardest demon of all. 

His Rachel, soft, nurturing and oh so fucking submissive had been eaten alive, absorbed in the pillar of strength that had walked into this room one day with a baby on her hip. Her green eyes shining from another round of the tears that had not seemed to stop in close to a year. She had stood there before them all and declared in a loud voice, "From now on, I am Petrine. The rock." And that had been it. As simple as that she had buried all that pain so deeply that no one had dared question it or her. 

But it was still there. He had seen it this morning in those green eyes that despite what the woman might claim saw almost as good as they ever had. And she was damned sexy with her reading glasses as she hunched over that damned computer with her fingers whizzing away on that keyboard. So those did not count. 

He inhaled. He hoped like hell he was strong enough for this. Opening all of that pain...after all these years...wounds like that only got worse with time. And that was his fault. His mistake to fix now. 

"Go on back to the cabin, Rachel. I will join you after I finish cleaning up. A half an hour or so, get a relaxing bath...it will pinken that sweet butt up nicely for me," he said as positioned himself so that no one could see him lightly swat that bottom. It was not the first time that such things had happened in this house...just the first time in a very, very, very long while.

He saw her look up. He caught the fire in those green eyes and thrilled at it. Then she nodded and simply whispered, "Yes, Sir."

He chuckled as he leaned in and nipped at that ear one more time, "The way you say that Old Woman still sets this Old Man's heart aflutter. Now off with you." 

He watched her as she walked over to their sons and Kirsty. The two woman spoke for a couple of moments. He noticed that whatever they said seemed to darken those clouds over Bjorn until the young man stood and followed his mother through the door. 

Maybe he should follow his own advice to his wife, but he knew that feeling all too well. In the end, he decided to simply have a brief tug on his pipe before finishing up the dishes...and dealing with the other as well.

Bjorn was leaning against the side of the house when he stepped out. He walked over to him and lit the pipe which he kept hidden on the window seal. He offered it to the younger man but he laughed roughly, "I'd be careful. If Mama caught you with that," Bjorn chuckled. 

Olaf shrugged, "A man my age has to have some pleasures in life." Not that the damned pipe was one of those. He nodded back towards the light from the window, "Not as easy as you thought it would be?" He would leave it at that. Let the man know that he was here if he needed to talk, that he understood. 

The younger man was silent for so long that he thought he had either not heard him or simply preferred not to discuss it. Olaf was preparing to put his pipe back in its hiding place when he finally did, "How did you do it?"

Olaf laughed, "Not one damned bit easier or simpler than you are, son. Our way of life is not easy. Sharing something as special and precious as the woman you love...even with the brothers you love...is not meant to be easy."

"I want to punch him, beat him to a pulp. He fucked up. Really fucked up. And she and Mama, all of you, are just forgive and forget. But it don't fucking work like that with me. Now she is going to help him with Monika's bath. She promised..." The younger man pushed off the wall and started pacing. His fists were knotted at his side as if he really did need to hit something.

"So which is it, Bjorn? The fact that she dropped unexpectedly hard? Or the fact that it may have brought her closer to your brother? Which is really bothering you?" The younger man swung around so fast that for a moment Olaf braced for the punch which he was sure was to come. 

Not that he could not still hold his own with any of them. Well, maybe not, but he could make them think twice about doing it again. Whoever thought growing older meant, growing weak and senile needed a lesson all their own. He was far from ready to take up a rocking chair and waiting to die. Hell, no, there was plenty of fight, love and life left in his old bones.

But that punch landed instead on the hard wood of the door frame, "Why now? Why the fuck did he have to mess it all up for me just when I was getting close to her?"

Olaf stilled his voice as his own pain resurfaced. How often had he thought the same damned thing about this man's father? Stig had been dead almost seven years and honestly maybe he was still battling it. Wanting to place a portion of the blame on the shoulders of a corpse. He bit back the ironic laughter that threatened to bubble over. Like fathers, like sons? 

He sighed before opening his mouth, "Mess what up, son? What has Mikael messed up for you?"

Bjorn blushed and looked at the ground. He was silent for another long moment, "The whole damned scene I had planned."

Olaf nodded, "So you were going to really put the new sub through her paces? See how far you could push her too?"

Bjorn looked at him like he had grown three heads of some ancient Norse god, "Hell, no, unlike my brother, I am no fucking sadist."

Olaf chuckled, "Don't knock it until you try it. But if that is not the case, then why exactly can you not stick with your plans?"

"Because she needs to rest. She needs..."

"A break?" Olaf shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know. She is not my sub. I do not know what she needs. Hell, I have not been doing a very good job of..." He saw the younger man stiffen and realized that even after Rachel outed them, their sons were not ready to accept the truth. 

He stopped himself and changed the subject, "Do you remember your first hangover, Bjorn?"

Bjorn laughed nervously, whether from the reminder or with relief that he had changed the subject. "Pretty damned unforgettable experience."




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 04



Olaf chuckled too at the reminder of the young man hung over the side of the boat as all of them laughed and poked fun at him. Young fool had taken to his computer looking up and trying half the cures for the malaise that he could find. "Black coffee. The tablets. Water. Orange juice...you went through almost a liter of the damned stuff. And what was that nasty one?"

"Raw egg, tomato juice and hot sauce," Bjorn made almost the same face as he had when he tasted it all those years ago. 

"Yeah, I remember. And what was it that finally worked? Do you remember, son?"

He watched the light dawn on the man's face as he whispered, "Papa handed me a shot of vodka."

Olaf nodded, "Funny ain't it? How a little shot of the very thing that caused all that trouble was just what it took to cure it?" He shrugged, "Well, those dishes won't wash themselves. Although sometimes leaving things to soak is just what you need to do. Good night, son."

***

Bjorn stood in the door way. It was certainly a good thing that Sven and Olaf had sealed the whole damned room as wet as the floor was. His niece was laughing as she splashed water, bubbles and damn it, was that his can of shaving foam that he saw laying on the floor next to where his wife knelt. 

His wife and kneeling...those possibilities were not ones he wanted to explore with his niece and brother around. He might not be old school high protocol crap like Sven or a sick sadistic fuck like Mikael, but there was not a Dom alive that did not get hard at the thought of his sub kneeling before him. 

But right now, he felt like an ass. A total and complete jack ass. As he watched the woman he loved laughing and giggling with the little girl. Damned, she will be an amazing mother. He sighed...is, he reminded himself. It was the only argument that had swayed Mikael. A mother for Monika. So why then did their little family scene bother him so much? Make him feel like an outsider looking in? Like the kid at Christmas looking in the toy store window at the shiny BMX bike that he knew Santa would not bring him this year. 

His brother looked up from beside her. "Kirsty was just helping me with Monika's bath, baby brother."

She smiled up at him and his breath caught in his lungs. She was always beautiful to him, but never more so than she was kneeling over that tub with his shaving foam in her hair and a smudge on her cheek. She glowed from within. She giggled, "I may owe you a can of shaving cream. Sorry. I just meant to use a bit. See how she liked it."

"Oh, she liked it," he hated that soft look in his brother's eyes when he looked at her. Just as quickly, he hated himself. This was not how it was meant to be. Their fathers had never fought over their mother. No, theirs was a home with enough love for all...sons and husbands. How had he so easily forgotten his mother's lessons? 

"It's okay. I'll just..." Just what? Wait for her in her room? Hell, they had not even discussed it. For all he knew she had changed her mind. Looking at the three of them like that. It hurt. Pure and simple. It felt worse than the anger he had nursed for this man the whole damned day. 

Mikael shook his head, "No, we were finished. I'll just take Monika and put her to bed now."

"I'll help," she smiled as if she had always been there. Always belonged. Always been a part of their lives. Wasn't that what he wanted? Damn it, after all this child had been through it was the least she fucking deserved. A loving mother. A real family. He was a selfish fucking bastard and he felt it just then. 

His brother shook his head, "No, we have borrowed you long enough. I will get her down." He looked up at him, "You have others, who need you more right now."

"But..."

His brother shook his head, "No, honestly, I have been doing this as often as I can since she was born. It honestly is something I enjoy doing for her. I can more than manage, I promise."

She looked so dejected then that Bjorn was tempted to tell her to just go, but before he could his brother spoke. "Just one more time...drink?" His brother brought his open fist towards his face as if he were holding a cup. She nodded her head with a smile. Then Mikael closed his eyes and brought his steeple hands to his bearded cheek as if he were going to... "Sleep?"

She beamed, "Absolutely perfect."

Bjorn frowned, "Why does Monika need sign language? She isn't deaf."

Kirsty shook her head and smiled at him, "It is not sing language. It is Makaton. I'll explain later. Teach you some too." She turned back to Monika and did something with her hands as she said "No more bath." Then she too made that other sign, "Sleep now." 

Then she lifted his niece and handed her off to his brother that was waiting with the towel. "Remember what I said. A bit harder when you rub her off. Just watch her face. Like the shaving foam, she may love it. Or she may hate it. Trust me she will let to know if you watch for the signs."

His brother laughed, "I think I might know a thing or two about watching for women's reactions. I just never thought to use those skills with my daughter."

She shoved him lightly and they both laughed. And Bjorn's chest got so fucking tight he thought a whole fucking pack of elephants were sitting right in the middle of it. 

Then his brother was pushing past him with his niece kicking and beginning to protest in earnest in his arms. "I am sure you will take care of her better than I did."

Bjorn wanted to gloat. Wanted to say, 'hell, yeah.' But after the touching scene he had just watched, the words seemed hallow. And it was he, who stared like that truly green-eyed monster at Mikael. 

***

It took him a bit longer to settle his daughter this night. But it was because she was excited, happy. She had given Monika that. The woman knew her stuff. And after their little talk, after he quit being such as asshole, she had just stepped into all of it. He could not say taken over, she had not. Instead she had done just as she promised, helped him to bridge the gap. Like Bjorn he would have never thought of sign language with Monika. But it was not...Maka-something. He would ask her again tomorrow. And the other one too...the picture things that talked about. 

For the first time since Greta left. The first time since he had begun to notice the subtle and sometimes not so subtle differences between his daughter and other children...he felt hope. Real genuine hope. As the woman...as Kirsty said there was no cure, but maybe with her help...maybe...

If he did not fuck it all up again. Like he almost had last night, today. He could not let that happen again. Could not let himself lose control. Could not let his demons out to play. 

This would be better, he promised himself. This truce. Friendship. Partnership. It was what he had wanted all along, right? 

A mother for Monika. That was the whole purpose. And while she might still be holding back just a bit, he could see that she was beginning to care for his child. It was all he could have ever hoped for. Wasn't it? 

So why did this leave him feeling even more empty than that beast had last night when it tried to break her? 

He was not looking as he crossed the living room towards the kitchen. "Sorry, Papa. I was not looking," he apologized.

His father shrugged, "It is fine. I was beginning to give up hope of speaking with you. I won't leave your mother..." Mikael shook his head. Why of all times did his parents have to out the worst kept secret in the world? "I have somewhere to be. But I wanted a word with you, first."

Mikael shrugged, prepared himself for what was coming. Like he told his mother, it was not that he did not deserve it all. And then some. 

"Give yourself a break, son. I am not going to lie. Not trying to make you feel better. You screwed up. Have you used Rule Two?"

Mikael shook his head, "A couple dozen times. But it does not help."

His father frowned, "What? She won't forgive you? Things seemed good when the two of you came down to dinner. When you took the baby up to her bath together."

He sighed, "No, she just minimizes it. Absolves me of all blame. Like it was no big deal. Hell, she's practically a vir..." He stopped himself, "She's new to all this."

"Then what's the problem? You recognized that you made a mistake. I know that you will learn from it. And you asked for and received her forgiveness. Why do you still look like a bear with a thorn in its paw?"

"Because I almost fucked everything up again, Old Man. And this time not just for me. Or even just for Monika. But for them too. And do you think that they are going to forgive me as quickly as the little sub? No, my brothers have every right to hate me," he drew in a deep breath. 

His father nodded his head, "Mikael, it has never been me or your mother or your uncles or your brother who could not forgive you. You have never failed any of us, disappointed us. It is you. You, who has so much trouble living up to impossibly high standards. You, who cannot forgive yourself, my son. And that is a damned hard place to be. Trust your Old Man, I know that better than you realize." 

Mikael looked away, anywhere except the man who had just nailed the whole truth. "Good night, son. I would say try to get some sleep. But my guess is that you will spend most of the night battling demons in your own mind. The Old Man needs to go battle some too...old ones. Too fucking old. Take your Old Man's advice... don't let them pile up on you."

Mikael did not move, did not look up until he heard the door closed. He hated to admit it but the Old Man was right. Even after laying awake for two hours in that damned bed and staring at those fucking monsters from the past that seemed to be mocking him and the mess that he had made of his life, he still felt no different, no better. 

Sure, he had done exactly what he swore to those laughing faces that he would. He had negotiated a truce with the woman. His wife. Their wife. Kirsty. And damn it, it was all he could have hoped it would be. She was intelligent. She was compassionate. She was... Not yours. She will never really be yours. 

He ran water into Monika's favorite cup and forced himself to walk back up those stairs. He did not need to hear that soft moan as he passed the bathroom. Why the fuck had they not sound-proofed that room too while they were remodelling? He stopped and leaned his head against those closed doors. 

"You need to learn to be thankful for what you do have...and stop wanting things you never will," he whispered as he brushed the wood and turned back down the hall to where his daughter was very much still wide awake and ready to play. Maybe she could distract him from thoughts of how fucking wide those blue eyes got when she came all over his face. Of how she would...for baby brother. 

***

"Damn him. What is taking the Old Man so fucking long?" She snuck a look at the clock on the mantle. Six minutes? Six fucking minutes was all she had been kneeling here? 

She chuckled. 'Be honest, old girl, it is not that your knees that can't take it. You never had any patience.' 

It was more than that though. Much more. It was how fucking right this still felt. After all these years. She thought she had come to terms with this need. Hell, they had all even learned to play the games in the bedroom. 

But what she had seen in those eyes this morning was not their safe little games. It is Dominant male. Her Dom. 

"Goddess damn the fucking bastard," she cursed. Why after forty years...three sons...and all the fucking loss and death they had faced...why could that man still get her wet? She chuckled...her sons would have a fucking cow if they knew she even thought the damned word. 

That was just it, she did not feel old. Sure, she had to use glasses when working on the computer or sewing, but loads of younger people wore those. Okay, so she could tell that winter was coming just a bit in her lower back when the breeze blew her coat aside. And she was reminded every damned time, she looked in the fucking mirror. Those lines around her mouth and eyes were not so fine anymore. And where the fuck had all this grey hair come from? 

Where had all the years gone? And her husbands? She felt intensely guilty to admit it but she could not even remember Lars face, no matter how hard she tried when she closed her eyes. But she supposed she could excuse that...it had been almost forty years. The man she had barely gotten to know before he was gone. The reminder of how hard this life really was...how nasty a bitch the sea truly was...of why they lived the way they did...why they shared a wife. 

"Sweet goddess, please, never let her know this pain," she prayed to her unknown deity, that voice inside herself that had allowed her to make peace with so much over the years.

Andres was not quite so hard to picture. Unfortunately, her memories of him were more of the sad, bitter shell, who had found his peace in the bottom of a bottle. The laughing man-boy whom she had first fallen in love with, the one who tricked her and stuck her with this life...he had sunk beneath the waves of time alongside of his brother.

Her throat still got tight every time she thought of Stig. Her quiet one. While she might see his face in her youngest son, it was her eldest who reminded her most of the man that it had taken over a decade and more pain than any human should have to bear to come to know and love. "Please, goddess, don't let Sven waste all those precious years the way we did."

But it was him. The one whom she had all to herself for the past seven years, the man who had become her best friend, she could not even bear the thought of it. If she had known so much fucking pain...then... She was not certain how she would ever survive it. 

She wiped away the tears that had started running down her face some time ago away. She sniffled. How sexy was a sub with red eyes and a runny fucking nose? 

Kirsty reminded her so much of herself back then. But stronger...so much fucking stronger than she had been. So much fucking stronger than she pretended to be. Had pretended to the world, her sons, them, him...and worst of all...herself. Petrine...the rock...was all just a lie. A role that she played. Just as they had come to role play something that had once been so fucking precious to them. 

Until today...until that look. Had she meant to do it? Had she been constantly pushing his buttons, prodding him, trying to make this happen? She would have sworn not. She would have sworn that she was happy with the co-existence they had crafted over the years. 

Until she felt that tingle from the top of her grey head to the tip of her toes. Until she felt the butterflies jump in her tummy. Her nipples harden and...all of the other bodily response that she more than well remembered. Not that they did not. But this was different. 

This was so fucking different. And so fucking the same...more fucking comfortable than she could ever remember anything being in a very long time. "Admit it, old woman, you missed kneeling, not because it was a game...but because of who he is. Who you are."

What now? What the fuck now, she wanted to scream. She was not even sure who she was, where she belonged anymore. She had been honest...that damned bed was too big for an old woman and her ghosts. The nights when she could not beg and plead with him to stay at the main house had been the worse. She barely slept laying there...the door open so she could hear Monika if she needed her. She lay there and simply stared at those laughing monsters until she swore they were laughing at her. 

"Damn it, I am not ready to be old. I am not ready to let my boys go. Let them go. Him go. What the fuck do I have then?" she cried as the tears streamed down her face so hard that her whole body shook. She had not cried like this since... Since that day... 

Then strong, familiar arms wrapped about her and drew her against him. And all of it came out...all of the pain. All of the lies. All of the pretending and role playing were swept away by the truth. Even the strongest of rocks...the mightiest of mountains...crumble sometimes.

***

This was not what he expected. Not at all. It was though what he wanted. What he had hoped they would begin to build towards. Especially as he listened her apologize to them tonight. She had gotten it just right. Realized that it was not what she had done...how she felt...but how she had done it that was the issue. He tried to remember a time when he had been prouder of this woman, more in love with her. Not even Mikael's birth came close. But this...the dykes had burst. Almost thirty years, maybe more of pain were flooding out...and all he could fucking do was hold her. 

How long he knelt there holding her naked body as it was wracked with decades of bottled pain he was not certain. He was well past feeling any of the pain in his knees or joints by the time she began to quiet into hiccups. Those green eyes swam in murky waters. They were red and almost swollen shut. Her nose was running as badly as their sons' when they were little. He would have reached for tissues but they were too fucking far. So he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe her eyes and nose. 

He sat back then on the cold wood floor and just leaned against the bed. They were both too weary to even climb into the damned thing just yet. He sighed...the best fucking part about a lifetime together was there was no need for meaningless words like... 'Feel better?' or 'I am sorry for messing up your shirt.' Silence was enough. 

He just rubbed her back as she leaned into him. He felt more like a man than he had in a very long time just protecting and comforting her. This was what it was all about anyway. A depth of connection that transcended words. Honor. Unconditional love. Responsibility. Trust. That was the true depth of Dom/sub. HURT. On so many levels. The good kind...the bad kind that they had had their share of...and the necessary kind. 

"First off, woman, I am not going anywhere. I waited over thirty years to get your sweet ass all to myself. I am not checking out until I have another thirty with you. So no more of that, do you understand me?" he smiled as she laughed and nodded.

"Second, you can't 'let' them go...they went long ago. And no one is trying to take your memories of my brother or your boys...just help you to see what fine men they have all become," he hugged her tighter.

"As for the old part...do you really want to make me sing to you? You have already cried enough tonight. But just to remind you, Rachel..."

"When a whole lot of Decembers are showing on your face,

Your auburn hair has faded and silver takes it place.

You'll be just as lovely. And I'll still be around."

"And trust me, sweetheart, it don't take little blue pills for this Old Man to want to lay you down." He brushed her damp hair back out of her face, "You really are still as beautiful as you were the day I saw you in those damned cut-offs and halter top, hanging all over Andreas like fucking ivy on some castle. I wanted you then...and I'll want as long as there is breathe in my body, woman," he bent and kissed her softly.

"As for what is there for you now? Well, I have a few surprises up my sleeve," he held it up and chuckled, "Maybe not this one though."

She giggled and his heart skipped a beat. "You know I love you, Rachel. I always have." Then he swatted the outside of her bare thigh, "But you don't get out of a punishment that easy." He shook his head, "Just not tonight. Tonight, I intend on doing just exactly what that song says..."

"Lay you down and softly whisper tender love words in your ears, 

Lay you down and tell you all the things my woman needs to hear," he sang every bit as badly as he had promised he would.

She giggled and had the effrontery to actually blush, "I think you just want to make me squirm some more."




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 04



He playfully swatted her backside as he lifted her on to the bed. "Oh, you will be squirming, woman. Squirming on my hard cock in about thirty seconds." He laughed as he pushed them both towards the center of the bed and covered her body with his. His hands made their between her legs as his mouth found the nipple that had nursed their son. 

Their sons. All of them were his now. A sacred trust that went with this lifestyle as much as this woman did. And he hoped like hell that he could keep those 'boys' from even one of the mistakes that they had made with this woman. All of them deserved more laughter than pain in this lifetime. 

But right now, it was his honor and duty to see that his wife had something besides pain this night.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 05



Kirsty watched him. Something was up. He was quiet. Too quiet. Too laid back. She always knew that 'Happy' hid a dark side, but it had been out in force today. 

She smiled as she remembered giving them nicknames over dinner that first night on the boat. Mikael was Grumpy she had decided, though she might have to change that one now that she knew him better. Sven was much too serious for any of the seven dwarfs. The way he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders earned him the name of Atlas. 

Bjorn with his broad smile had been Happy. No doubt about it. Except as she watched him now, just leaning against the door. He was anything but. And that scared her...perhaps more than her 'bad boy.' She wanted to make this man laugh, see that smile which she was so used to. 

She remembered what Mikael had said earlier. But she still did not get why Bjorn and even Sven seemed so upset. Sub drop, if that was what it was, was common. It was just that she was not used to it. She had not known what it was or what to do...now she did. 

She frowned and turned back to straighten the mess up while she thought about it. It was not the fact that they had used most of his shaving cream, she chuckled at the thought as she picked up the can. There was still just a bit left. Even his anger with Mikael did not fully explain the dark mood hanging like a cloud over him. When all else failed, she decided to take the straight approach, "Why are you so angry with Mikael?" she asked as she shook the can.

His handsome face darkened even more if that were possible as he crossed his arms across that magnificent chest, "Because he damned well should have taken better care of you. That was his fucking responsibility...just as much as it is mine and Sven's."

Kirsty felt anger course through her. The way he said that went against all that she had ever been taught. Women were strong, capable of making their own decision, they did not need anyone, especially a man to look after them. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head. Nancy Dickens would never tolerate such 'drivel' from anyone.

It was the biggest reason why she had had such a hard time coming to terms with her own submissive nature. But choosing to submit to him, to them was one thing. Being 'their responsibility' was a whole new level. One she was not ready to cede to anyone...even him. Especially this stranger that towered over her darkly. 

With the wet towel in one hand and the can of shaving foam in the other, she stood and faced him. Her anger might not equal his but it was getting there. "Responsibility? I am a big girl. I am no one's responsibility. I have been taking care of myself all..."

He was across the room before the next word was out of her mouth. His fingers laced through her hair and pulled her up against him. "And how exactly was that working for you, darling? Do you want me to remind you of all the little secrets you told me over the past few months? The friends who aren't really. The man you stayed with but did not love. The roommates that you barely spoke to. Have I missed any, Kirsty? Oh yes, the parents you see once a month for an hour."

Being reminded of all that by him just then was not what she wanted. The fact that it was all the truth only made the situation worse. She brought the can of shaving foam from behind her back and sprayed it in his face. 

His green eyes darkened as he swiped the worst of it off and lowered his face towards hers, "That was not a smart move, my sweet Freya." 

Her whole body trembled in his arms. A moment before her anger had been blazing, but at those simple words it was an inferno of a whole different kind that was consuming her. "That was not fair," she whispered as his mouth covered and claimed hers. 

Her sweet, gentle Bjorn was demanding and thorough as his tongue and teeth conquered every corner of her mouth. Her nipples that had instantly hardened at those words were chaffing against the heavy, wet material of her top and bra. All she could taste was the shaving foam but by the time, he finally drew back from the kiss, she was trembling but it was from anything but anger. 

"Strip," he growled almost against her lips. 

"What is it with you guys and the stripping thing? There are clubs for that sort of thing," she tried to tease but it came out more a throaty whisper. 

He stared at her, "We'll save the table dance for another time, Kirsty. Right now, we both need a shower." He should have been laughing. Where was her Happy? 

She looked at her wet clothes and the shaving cream, there was no denying his words. But still she could not fight the thread of fear that was weaving itself through her mind. She brought a hand to his chest, "Please Bjorn, you're scaring me. Just tell me what's wrong. Please."

***

He wanted to be angry. Some part of him still was. But her words, those simple words were all it took. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers as he breathed deeply for a couple of minutes. The anger and jealousy were still there when he opened them but at least they were under control now. He tried smiling at her but knew it was a feeble attempt. 

"Let me bath you please," he tried again. She studied his face for a long moment and then nodded. She reached for the hem of her t-shirt, but his hands covered hers and stilled them. "No, let me. Let me care for you tonight. Okay, my love?"

She frowned up at him but once more she merely nodded. His fingers in her hair tightened and he pulled her head back further, "Bad manners, my sweet Freya." He felt the shock race through her whole body. He smiled, his beautiful wife was so fucking submissive, her mind so open to his and her body was so damned responsive. The conditioning was happening even faster than he had imagined. 

But not fast enough. He craved that power, especially now. He needed to know that there was something he could give her that the others could not. Something deeper and intensely binding between them. But he had always favored the mental component to these games...the mind fucks. And he needed to be so deeply inside this woman's mind that she could never fucking get him out. 

He breathed deeply again, forcing his mind back from the darkness that he only ever barely managed to keep hidden just beneath the surface. Unlike Mikael, he had never coveted Sven's role as leader. He was more than satisfied to just do his part, a member of the team was not his issue. But when it came to women he had always known where his proclivities lay...and they frightened even him. The depth of control he craved was deeper than most.

When it was just games, carefully negotiated consent in clubs, it had been easy. But he had always felt like an ass even then. He knew those women always wanted more than he gave, offered more than he could ever accept. It was why he had so rarely played. 

But with her...it was so fucking different. She was different. With her, he wanted it all. And he wanted it instantly. He wanted the very air she breathed. He wanted her dependent upon him for that. He wanted her orgasms... Oh, fucking, goddess, did she realize why he had chosen those words as the trigger. He smiled as he reluctantly released her. 

He stared at her as he spoke, "The correct response was not nodding that pretty head of yours. The correct response was...'Yes, Master.' Do you understand me, Kirsty?"

He heard the quick intake of her breath. She always did at that word. Let her. It was a powerful reminder of what he wanted from her...the depths of his need. But after that brief pause her expressive eyes widened at that word, she dropped her head and whispered, "Yes, Master."

He smiled and brushed the pad of his finger across her cheek, "Good girl." He pulled her into his arms and just held her for a long moment. Trying to calm and reassure them both. "You will wait while I get your bath ready. You are not to undress. I will do that. Do you understand, Kirsty?"

She started to nod, then she whispered, "Yes, Sss." Again she caught herself, he watched as her throat moved up and down, swallowing back the words, "Yes, Master." He was so fucking proud of how much stronger the words were when they came this time. 

He kissed the top of her head, "Good girl." 

Then he broke the embrace and finished rinsing out the tub. His mother's favorite. The ancient bear claw tub was huge. It would easily fit them both. Of course, she might have to sit on his hard cock, but they would save that for another time, he promised himself. He made adjustments to the taps, using his wrists just as he had on the rare occasions that he had bathed Monika as a baby. 

They had all taken turns caring for her. That woman had never been maternal. Never really wanted anything to do with the child. He supposed that they had dismissed the obvious with Monika for so long, blaming it upon her childhood. He really was happy to see how quickly Kirsty had taken to his niece. It was his...

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing his mind back from that path once more. This was his night with her. And he was not going to let Mikael spoil it. Sven either for that matter. But what worried him most was not his brothers...but his reaction to them. His uncle's words aside, he never once remembered his father or his uncles being anything but united when it came to his mother. He would have time later for unravelling that mystery too. Maybe even speak to his mother about it, but right now, he wanted...needed...to focus upon the present. Upon her. 

He stood up and gathered the other things that he needed. His body wash, his shampoo. He knew that he should have ordered her own while he was purchasing the clothes he wanted her to wear. But he had not. The truth was that like his shirts he wanted her to wear his scent. 

Was that part of this too? Washing his brother from her body? He could easily do that, but what he had seen earlier of the two of them bent over this tub laughing and chatting so easily warned him that no matter how hard he scrubbed, he could not wipe Mikael from her mind. And that fucking bothered him more than he was ready to admit just then. 

So he did not as he poured half the bottle of body wash into the tub until a plethora of bubbles floated upon the surface. The whole room filled with the dark musky scent that he favored. Only then did he stand and face her. She was just watching him. He smiled at her, tried his best to reassure her...or maybe it was himself that he needed to reassure.

When he stood before her, she brushed the side of his face tenderly. "Bjorn, please, Mikael really did not..."

He shook his head firmly and placed his finger over those sweet lips that were still red and slightly swollen from his kisses. "No more. I do not want to talk about my brothers tonight. Is that understood?"

She sighed and tried to smile, but it did not reach her eyes as she nodded, "Yes, Master."

He smiled as he lifted the t-shirt over her head and tossed it in the laundry basket. His hand covered her breast as his thumb caressed her hard nipple through the thin silky material of her bra. It was hard to begin with but puckered even more at his touch. He was fascinated by it as he toyed with it for a long moment. Her breathing was quicker and more shallow. He could do this all night. 

But maybe not, he thought as he fitted her whole breast into the palm of his hand and squeezed softly, "You fit so fucking perfectly into the palm of my hand." The way that she leaned into him and stared up at him did funny things to his guts. "Do you know why I choose Freya?"

He loved the funny dazed sort of look in her face, like she could not manage to focus upon what he was saying for what he was doing. He dropped to his knees. His hands on her waist drew her closer still as his mouth captured that turgid peak and suckled upon it. When he finally did release it, his tongue toyed with it between words as he spoke, "I choose the words...My...Sweet...Freya." 

Her moan was loud as her knees buckled, only his hands around her waist kept her from falling to the ground in a puddle. He could tell that she was incredibly close. So fucking close to an orgasm. And she still wore those damned impossibly tight jeans that hugged her curvy ass. "Do you know who she is?" he whispered against her belly button as his tongue swirled around it slowly. 

She whimpered, "Some fucking goddess. Bjorn, you're driving me crazy. I need to come so fucking bad. Please."

He shook his head against her softness, "Not yet, I want you to hold it back as long as you can. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you hold back the tide that wants to sweep you away? For me?" His tongue went back to toying at her navel as his thumb brushed her nipple so lightly that he was not sure she could even feel it. But her moans said she did.

"I'll try," she whimpered as he unbuttoned her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. His tongue followed their lead and drew a wandering path across her lower belly. His cock stiffened even more in his jeans. 

If Monika had been the bait he used with Mikael, it had been a son that had drawn his elder brother. But if Sven thought for a moment he was just going to step aside on that one... No, he was every bit as determined as his brother to get her pregnant and just as determined that it be his son...or his daughter for all he fucking cared. But his. He wanted that part of her too. 'Fucking, hell, admit it...you want all of her.'

But he fought that voice back as surely as he fought the sudden urge to push her jeans and panties aside, to bury himself inside of her, to come so deep and so often in her body that it ripened with his baby. That was not their way, he reminded himself for what seemed like the thousandth time that day alone.

If he could not control his thoughts, he did his actions as he slowly trailed his hands from her full breasts that he knew would only become fuller once she was pregnant. His hands finally slipped inside her jeans, he frowned as he found she wore nothing beneath them. 

His tongue travelled lower as well. He pressed a soft kiss at the bottom of the zipper as he began to push the jeans down her impossibly long legs. Legs that he imagined wrapped about his waist as he pressed her against the cold tiles of the shower, as he buried himself inside of her body over and over again.

The jeans puddled around her ankles as he pressed another kiss on her bare mound. He inhaled the sweet smell of her need as he leaned his face against her abdomen wrapping his arms about her and holding her as tightly as he could. Too tightly perhaps as his demons raged inside his fucking mind. Demons that he had battled as long as he could remember. Demons that this woman alone seemed to ignite, to stir to life...and to calm. 

He lifted first one foot and then the other, removing that final barrier and flinging it too across the room. He wished he could as easily fling the demons in his head aside. His hands guided her body to the edge of the tub. He tugged her hips until she sat on the edge of the cold steel and enamel rim. He tilted her pelvis and his hands made their way to her knees, "Open for me," he growled. 

He smiled at how quickly, how automatically she obeyed his command. But he did not dwell upon it as he lend forward and buried his tongue between her soft thighs. His tongue homed in upon the tender morsel of flesh at the juncture of her thighs. He toyed with it, licking it, twirling around its sweetness slowly. 

He felt her tremble then tense. "Not yet," he blow the words right across it and revelled in her soft whimpers as he returned to the torture...and the sweetness. 

***

She knew this game...it was not new to her. But this was totally different from what Mikael had done. He had sensed when she was close then drawn back, leaving her wanting, needing. This was worse, so fucking much worse. Bjorn knew how close she was...how fucking much she wanted and needed to come. He did not even try to back off, his tongue continued torturing her stiff clit...and still he demanded that she hold back her orgasm. 

The task seemed impossible as he licked at her...once, twice, thrice...what the fuck was four, she tried to focus upon something else. Anything else other than how incredibly good his tongue felt on her clit. She bit her lip as she thought about how different this felt without whiskers abrading her thighs...how easy it would be to just...

Then he was leaning back on his heels once more, reaching for the handles to turn off the water. Her whole fucking body was on fire...and he stopped. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to pull her hair out. She wanted to scream. 

Then his hand landed a solid blow to her outer thigh, "Bath time. My sweet, greedy little cunt."

She shivered at those words. If the man was trying to calm her down, relax her, dirty talk was not the way to do it. But all she said was, "Yes, Master," as he lifted her legs and turned her, slowly lowering them into the incredibly warm, almost perfect water. She moaned again as she slid into it. 

She leaned against the end of the tub and closed her eyes with a sigh. She could almost lose herself in it. Fall asleep again. If it were not for him. She was torn again. Not even the lapping of the water could extinguish the fires he had ignited in her.  

But at the same time, she found herself blushing, fighting the illogical need to cover her full curves as much as she could with her arms. She was not certain, no matter what this man said, if she would ever be completely comfortable being naked like this with her Adonis...Thor.

Then his hands were on that body as he spread more of the soapy suds over her. She frowned...him. It was the smell of him. Each of them smelled just slightly different. Perhaps each used different scents, she frowned. She giggled...who would have thought that after working with damned fish all day they could all manage to smell so fucking sexy.

"Tell me," his voice caressed her ear lobe as surely as his hands had once more found the aching fullness of her breasts. 

Did she have any choice? "Why don't any of you smell of the fish? The sea, yes, but not the fish...just sex, sea and man."

He chuckled as she felt his lips brush hers as lightly as his thumbs strummed across her nipples. "Because we have the good sense to shower before we come to you, sweetheart."

She opened her eyes and stared up into his lazily, "And what if I wanted the pleasure of bathing you like this?"

He sighed and smiled back, "You are so fucking fascinating woman. I don't think I will ever grow tired to exploring your depths." He paused for a moment as he filled his hands with soap once more. "Dunk under the water," he ordered. 

When she emerged and wiped the water from her eyes, she noticed that he had moved from the side of the tub to the end behind her. His fingers slid through her hair as he gently began to build the lather. It was almost as fucking amazing as her friend Roz who was the cranio-osteopathist ...no, better, because his touch was firmer, more sensual. She found herself moaning with each stroke. 

"It is called service submission," he said as he continued the slow message. 

She sighed just enjoying the feel of his hands on her head, "What is?"

"The need to bath your Master. Do small things like bring coffee in the morning. It takes traditional chores that just need to be done, that should be a shared responsibility...it takes all of that to another level. A depth of submission that is not common," his voice was low and she could feel his breath caressing her skin as well as his fingers.

"Why? You do those things for me all the time. You brought me cookies," she smiled at the memory of waking in the cabin that first time. Her hands were still tied and she was completely naked with Sven's bite marks on her tits. She woke to this god kneeling next to her with a plate of freshly baked cookies and a smile. "And my tea...you're always bringing me tea in the morning," she frowned. "How is that any different? It is just what you do for someone you..."




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 05



"Love," he whispered against her ear as he kissed the side of her face.

Did she? She shook her head. She wanted to deny it. Less than a week she reminded herself...five fucking days. It did not happen like that. It was not supposed to. You met someone through school or work or friends. You got to know one another slowly. Then you dated...eventually you had sex. Then after a year or so you became a couple. You married after two or three years...or six...or never. 

But from the beginning this has been out of her comfort zone. Those books, that site. Their messages. And that was it...their messages. As much as she might want to count days upon her fingers and deny what her heart told her head, the truth was that she knew these men. She had shared secrets with them that she had told no one else...ever. 

It was so easy to do. It was just a computer screen. She would never meet this man...these men she realized now. That made it so incredibly easy to spill secrets that she would never share with anyone else. Him, especially. She wanted to laugh hysterically at how easy it would be now to file those messages into Sven, Mikael and Bjorn folders. 

And his folder in particular would be full of those secrets...how hard it was admitting her submissive nature...how she felt like such a disappointment, especially to her mother...how she had never felt like she fit in with her group of friends who valued their careers, their homes, marrying the right man...how hard she had tried to be like that and in the end how badly she had failed. This man knew all of it. 

Sometimes he had just listened. Sometimes he had offered words of wisdom or comfort. But never once had he judged. Even those things that she judged herself for...especially those. 

Her eyes swam with tears that had nothing to do with getting soap in them and her throat was tight as she looked up at him, "Yes, little things you do for someone you love."

He smiled at her and whispered, "Time for a rinse." Then his hand on her head was pushing her under the water. Her first reaction was immediate. Instinctual. Fight. But then her heart took over...this was him. Him. He would never hurt her. He never could...and she relaxed and opened her eyes. Staring up at him through the refraction of the water and the bubbles.

***

'What the fuck are you doing, asshole?' the voice of reason in his head demanded. The woman just practically admitted she loves you and the first thing you have to do is try to drown her? 

It made no sense, Bjorn knew that. But his dark side never did. Yes, maybe she had come close but she had not said the words. The ones he really wanted to hear. So that twisted fuck in his mind felt the need to assert his complete dominance. To test her limits. 

Oh, he thoroughly hated himself for it. This...this was beyond breath play...much beyond it. And he had never even fucking practiced this. This was stupid. 'So, why the fuck are you doing it, asshole?' Because he needed that fucking much control. 

He stared into her eyes, felt the tension, the fight drain from her. He smiled and released her. Her head had barely broken the surface as she sputtered water when his mouth covered hers. He breathed into her deeply as his tongue plunged into her sweet depths. Once more their breath mingled, became as shared as the life he needed with this woman whom he so desperately wanted not just to love...but to possess...completely...to own.

"Love," he whispered against her lips. "Sex," his tongue outlined her full bottom lip. "Beauty," it ran the full length of the seam of those swollen lips, begging and pleading for entrance. "Fertility," his hand slipped beneath the bubbles and slowly rubbed circles over her womb. Then he reluctantly moved lower still, resting on the outside of her bare mound, "Gold."

His fingers slipped lower into her wet folds, slippery in a way that not even the water could account for, "Seiðr...sorcery as ancient as time itself." They slipped just inside of her, but remained still, denying her what she needed just as what he had needed remained just out of his grasp, "War and death too."

His lips ran along hers so close that the air mingled, they shared a breath without even touching. "She is all of those things. Just as you are. Nothing else would ever do, my sweet Freya." His mouth covered hers as she screamed her powerful release into his soul. Her body shook and arched, trying to draw his fingers deeper inside of her. But he held them still. Savoring the feel of her inner muscles contracting and squeezing them.

But still it was not enough. Her orgasm had not even finished when he took his fingers from her, gathered her hands in his and tugged. She faltered a bit, unsteady on her feet as she stared at him in confusion. "Out of the fucking tub," he growled. "Now." 

***

Kirsty was dazed. The demon was back. Demons? She reached up to touch his face, but he shook his head. "Don't touch me now," he growled before he pulled her across the cold tiles to the shower. He was silent as he turned on the water. He adjusted the dials. The spray pulsed, then pounded, then softly caressed. 

When he was finally satisfied, he plunged her beneath its spray. He arranged her hands on the tiled wall. Spread apart and above her head. "Open your fucking legs, my sweet little slut." His hand slapped her bare bottom and she jumped. The wetness made the impact more pronounced. She felt the sting burn in a new and exciting way.

"Spread those sexy thighs wide, baby," he growled as she felt his teeth sink into the soft tissue where her neck met her shoulder. He pinned her like that as she obeyed. His fingers plunged inside of her once more, finding that special spot. She was not certain if his order to hold back still applied, but she could not have if she wanted to as her body took the relief his fingers offered. 

But as quickly as his fingers had invaded her, they were gone. Her knees were weak and she whimpered in the unrequited need. Then she felt his body cover hers. His fingers laced through hers on the cold tile as the wet denim of his jeans chafed the back of her thighs. His t-shirt seemed almost as scratchy as the wool of Mikael's shirt had against her bare back as he pushed her forward.

Her eyes flared wide. Her fingers grasped his even tighter. She gasped as she felt him enter her. He was hard and thick. There was nothing soft or gentle about it. He pushed inside of her deeper. "Come for me, my sweet fucking Freya. Come on my hard cock as I fuck you," his voice was guttural, feral even as his body plunged violently inside of hers.

There was an edge of pain to it, he was deeper than he ever had been...than anyone had been. The pleasure overshadowed the pain, consumed it, and blended with it until the two became one. Just as they were in that moment. If her body had been on fire with this man before, this was throwing petrol on those flames as they arched and raged to new heights...and depths. 

She bit her lip from screaming, but only managed to muffle the cry that she could not stifle as her body tightened and drew him impossibly deeper still. "Yes," he raged as the demon surged inside of her, "Yes, come for me, my sweet Freya."

She almost collapsed against the wall. Her body was already clinching and pulsing around him. She was so fucking full that there was simply no more room for those muscles to tighten even more. But that was what her body wanted...what it needed...what it simply had to do. 

The result was an aching pain low in her abdomen...like a period cramp, sort of, but intensified by the pleasure that simply would not abate. She hung there. Suspended on his hard cock as he plunged deeper and faster inside of her. Her body was on overdrive...unlike anything she had ever known. 

Each stroke was deeper, more painful than the last, but still her body responded. Craved his. Craved the darkness. Craved the pain even. She was not sure how long they stayed like that, locked in a carnal embrace as he took her. The water went cold, but it did not matter. The heat of his body warmed her. The fire that burned inside of her generated its own heat. 

She heard him growl. It was almost the pained plea of a wounded bear as she felt his pace quicken even more. The short, shallow stabs pressed the head of his cock so deep inside of her that she felt the pressure as if he were trying to invade her very soul. He pressed her forward until her tits too were squashed against the cold tiles. 

Still he raged on like that animal in pain. Then the pain was shared as his teeth once more sunk deep into her shoulder. "Mine," he growled painfully as she felt him swelling inside of her. She turned her head and bit her hand to keep from screaming out. But not even her mind knew if it were pain or pleasure that overrode the other as they melded as surely as his body was with hers. 

"Fucking mine," he panted as she felt his liquid heat burn inside of her body. His fingers squeezing hers tighter. His teeth sinking so deeply that she feared he had broken the skin. His wet shirt and jeans rubbed her skin almost raw. And his cock pulsed inside of her sore cunt as jet after jet of his hot come filled her. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard...filled her unprotected womb. 

Then there was perfect silence. Perfect peace after the storm. His large body still surrounded hers, but somehow it felt different. Like it cradled hers. His teeth loosened their grip to be replaced by the gentle lapping like a puppy might after it accidently bit its owner. His head leaned against hers and she would have worsen that the water warmed again at least against her neck. 

She squeezed his fingers gently as she turned her head towards his face. Those green eyes glistened as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She chuckled and realized too late just how painful that could be with his hard cock inside of her and her own muscles suffering fatigue from how hard and often they had come. She winced and saw him frown. Something shifted in her chest. Her heart skipped a beat at the intense tightness there as she caressed his cheek, "I'm not." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

He shook his head, "No, Kirsty, I should not have lost control. It's just that it is all so new..." He frowned.

"I know, Bjorn. But I meant it. I am not sorry. It was incredibly intense granted and I'm not going to lie. I will probably be sore tomorrow, but damn it...I still..." She kissed him softly, "Maybe not all the time mind you. But damn, that was amazing."

He shook his head as he wrapped his arms about her, "Never tire of your depths, sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you certainly went deep this time," as if to emphasis the point he flexed inside of her. She would have sworn it impossible but her body quaked around his and in an instant she was as weak and needy as if none of it had happened. 

"No more, my greedy little cunt." He softly nibbled her ear, "Well, maybe later, but not right now. We both need to finish this cold shower. Then I have a surprise for you."

"Another one?" she chuckled. She whimpered and pouted as she felt him slip from her body. 

His hand once more made that stinging contact with her bum. "No pouting. I think you will like this surprise," he said as he stripped the soaking wet shirt over his head and tossed it into the basket. The jeans were right behind it as he stepped beneath the cold spray. His Norwegian blond hair was already damp but it instantly darkened from the water that ran like rivulets down his firm chest and arms. 

She could not resist the temptation as she nipped over to the tub for the shampoo and body wash. She did not bother with a wash cloth as she poured the wash into the palm of her hand. Any excuse to touch him skin to skin. He moaned as she began at his fingers and slowly caressed down his arms. She discovered that he was very ticklish as she caressed his underarms and across his ribs. 

But she paid a price for that discovery as the other bum cheek reddened and warmed, "That made the top ten of the 'Things You Don't Do to a Dom' list," he teased. 

Without the heat of their love making neither wanted to tarry long though. But she smiled as she promised herself...soon. Soon she would explore this thing he called 'service submission.' The idea of running her hands leisurely across his body sounded like anything but 'service' to her though. 

Her cheeks reddened to match her bottom as she realized it was not just him that she wanted the excuse to explore at leisure. She wondered how long Mikael's stone walls of friendship would last if she got him naked in the shower. And Sven? Could she manage to coax a smile from him? Yes, she definitely wanted to give this 'service' thing a try...her mother's feminism be damned. 

But then he took the body wash from her and it was his hands once more all over her body. How the fuck could her body still want him? But it did. Each place he touched ached and tingled for more of his sweet, tender touch. Until she was softly moaning as his fingers once more slipped between her legs. She blushed as he washed her there too. It was strange; how could she still be shy after... But she was. 

He sighed and brushed a kiss to the tender spot where her shoulder met her neck. "We could stay in here all damned night if we are not careful. Every time I get you clean I want to make another mess in that sweet pussy." His thick cock brushed her outer thigh to make his point as his hand covered her lower abdomen and drew her back against him. 

He kissed her softly, "But the water is cold...and next time I come inside of you I want you on your back in that huge bed," he whispered as he turned off the water. She shivered and he drew her closer as he opened a cabinet and drew out two over-sized bath sheets. He wrapped one about his waist and the other about her chest and knotted it over her tits. 

She wanted to chuckle at the way he pushed her behind him and looked around the door before lacing his fingers through hers and drawing her out into the hall. For some odd reason, it made her feel that they were teens, sneaking around behind their parents' backs. She could not stifle the giggles as she 'snuck' into her room. 

But when she looked at him...he was all business and very serious. That dark brooding intensity was back in the depths of those Kelly green eyes and she shivered. In anticipation and the teeny tiniest smidgen of fear.

***

Bjorn breathed deeply and fought back the raging demons. He had spent the whole fucking day ready to throttle Mikael. And the truth was that the moment he was alone with her, he was no better. The 'drowning' thing was among his darkest fantasies. Something he had always thought they might get to one day...or not. But he had pushed it now? Why?

Because you are jealous of your brothers? Because she makes you feel too much? Because you are still afraid of losing her? Because she could not say those words? Or simply because the truth is that you are sicker and darker than your sadistic fuck of a brother? He did not like any of those options. But his time with her was slipping away like sands through the hourglass. 

And this one...this one he knew he could handle. It was his specialty. The thing that always got him noticed in the clubs. Hell, he always had subs lining up, begging for it. And he knew it was something that fascinated her. Something he wanted to share with her. 

"Sit on the bed, Kirsty," he commanded. He had laid everything he needed out earlier. He watched her eyes widen when she saw the lumps on the bed covered in black cloth. His cock hardened again, "Actually, kneel. Kneel next to it." 

He would have never taken himself for a high protocol prick like his eldest brother. In fact, it had always made him a bit uncomfortable when the subs they played with in the clubs knelt before him. But she was different...so fucking different. Her...he longed to see kneeling at his feet. It turned him on. 'Fuck, idiot, she turns you on,' chided that little voice.

He pushed it aside as she whispered "Yes, Master." She sank to her knees on the floor near the bed. Her chin almost touched her chest. Those small, soft hands that could drive him insane were palm up on her spread knees. Though she still wore the towel, it gapped open revealing her tight cunt. Too tight for him to lose control like that very often. Despite the newness of it all, there was no excuse for how rough he had been with her. 

But it was time for something softer now. Time to show her...how much he loved her. He frowned, he still was not any more comfortable with those words than she appeared to be. But he knew they were true, whether he liked it or not. Honestly, he had fallen for her when it was nothing more than fucking messages. Her intelligent mind, her caring heart, her submissive nature...how could he not? 

But holding her, talking with her, laughing with her that first night, he was a goner. And he honestly did not care. The only thing that remained was to awaken his lovely wife to what was so fucking obvious to him...that she loved him too. That she belonged here with him. Fuck it...with them...as hard as that was right now.

And what he had planned to fulfil one of her fantasies was a good start. He crossed the room and sat on the bed. He turned her body just a bit so that she fit perfectly between his open thighs. He tugged softly on her hair as he ran his fingers through the long wet strands. Wet it was so dark that is was almost mahogany like her bed. It gleamed in the low light. "Beautiful," he whispered.

She blushed and he could almost hear her thoughts. She was not comfortable in her own skin. He cursed their warped society that had made her feel less than what she was simply because of her lush, round, softness that he adored. He leaned down and whispered, "Take off the towel."

Her eyes came open, stared into his. He saw the panic there. Saw her want to fight, to argue. How was it that she could allow him to push her head beneath the water, hold her there and force her body to surrender into his sick need for utter and complete control of her very life...but she could not be naked with him? He took that choice from her as he tugged the end free from between her soft breasts. 

His other hand reached down and captured one. It fit so perfectly in the palm of his hand. He had always known it would somehow. His thumb softly caressed it. "One day, sweetheart, I promise you, you will realize how beautiful you are to me." 

He smiled, "But until then, I need the same type of trust and submission you give me when I place my hand on your throat. When I pushed your head under the water. I need you to trust me that I will never hurt you. Do you understand me?"

She sighed and looked down at the floor. He could see the tears glistening in her eyes. He knew the 'mind fuck' that modern culture had done to her, telling her constantly that beauty was so thin as to be unhealthy, but still he was surprised at the depths of her pain and insecurity. He wanted to fix it all. He wanted to do what he promised...let her see herself through his eyes. But he knew that would take time. Problem was that when it came to her, he was discovering that he was not a very patient man.

In the end, her response was a slight nod and the whispered words, "Yes, Master."

He shook his head and forced her to look up at him, "Not in this, sweetheart." His thumb brushed the moisture from the corner of those eyes, "In this, I am just your husband, your lover, your friend. This is about more than obedience. It is about real trust. The hard kind. Can you give me that?"

Her throat moved up and down as she swallowed several times. More tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. It was a very long moment that seemed to mock all he wanted with her, but in the end she nodded, "I'll try. I promise."




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 05



"That is good enough. And I promise that I will always respect how hard this is for you. That I won't take it for granted. That I will treasure the trust you are placing in me," he bent and kissed the new tears away from the corners of both eyes. They were so much like her...like the way she made him feel. Salty and earthy but sweeter than summer's first wine. "Thank you, my love," he said as he sealed it with a tender kiss to her lips.

He positioned her back so that she was facing forward and once more ran his fingers through her hair. "You know I love your hair."

She chuckled, "Being ginger is not easy. Besides the obvious freckles and burning at the least little bit of sun, no one finds it particularly attractive. I always hated the dolls my mother bought me...so thin and all that light blond hair. I used to..."

"No dolls like that for our little girls then. I want them to realize that they are as beautiful as their mother," he said as he tugged gently at a knot.

***

Kirsty wanted to blame the modest pain for the tears that clouded her vision and made her head swim. But she knew it would be a lie. His words simple as they were touched her deeply. She had tried so fucking hard to come to terms with the idea not of being married to these men, not of loving them, she was beginning to realize just how fucking easy that would be...she had only to allow herself really. 

But babies...the children that she had begun to long for, especially after the break up with Raj, when she first heard the ticking of her biological clock and realized that she had wasted six years. That she did not want to waste more. The idea of getting pregnant...like this...was still hard, especially after what had happened in town yesterday.

Mikael's words last night had confirmed what she suspected...to Sven she was nothing more than a brood mare. Something...someone to give him the sons he wanted. To continue their legacy. 

But the way he said it, the fact that he spoke so tenderly of daughters, girls, not merely fodder for the sea, hands to work the nets, but little girls who would play with dolls as much as they ran in the fields. She felt the tightness in her throat grow. It was almost as if some invisible hand was constricting around her neck. For the first time, getting pregnant was not so scary. Not with him. Not with a man who spoke of little girls and worried about their dolls. 

She reached up and wrapped her arm about his neck, drawing him down until their lips met. "I'd like that," she admitted a bit shyly. 

He smiled and his large hand moved to cover her lower abdomen, "We'll get back to work on that in a bit then. But right now, stop distracting me, woman. I spent half of last night fucking planning this whole seductive scene."

She chuckled, "Yes, Master."

He untangled her arms from his neck and turned her back around. Once more his fingers caressed her scalp. If the man ever wanted to give up fishing he would make a damned good masseuse. Then she felt something else, the teeth of a comb scraping lightly against her head. He sectioned her wet hair off. But what came next shocked her...he began to actually braid it. 

He chuckled, "Rope, hair? What's the difference?" Then he paused, "Actually, huge difference. Your hair is so fucking soft. I could just touch it all night long...if I did not have other plans."

He picked up something from under that cloth. It took her a moment to realize that it was rope. He wove it through her hair then used it to tie off the ends. Several feet of it trailed down her back. "There now. That is done. Against the wardrobe."

His voice was doing funny thing to her tummy. Butterflies danced there as he helped her to stand. "Facing it for now," he said. Then she felt the gentle pull of the rope as he laced the free end of it through the center ring on the wardrobe and tied it off. Her hair was pulled up, not enough to be painful, but it effectively got it off her back and out of the way. 

She frowned as he lightly tapped her bottom, "Don't go anywhere."

"You guys only say that when rope is involved," she teased.

"What can you say...you played with dolls as a little girl, all we had was rope," he replied as she watched him in the mirrors gathering something else into his hands.

"And all the little girls were just begging you to tie them up, I bet?" she teased.

"No, only the big ones. When we were little, it was usually me that Mikael tied up...to keep me out of his way." Did he realize how much he revealed with those words, she wondered. 

But then she had other things to think about as he slipped another rope around her wrist and lifted her arm. He secured this one to an outer ring and repeated with her other hand. In the end, her body was pressed securely against the wood, both hands outstretched to the side and her hair acting as an anchor.

He kissed her shoulder softly and she knew what he was going to say, "Don't go anywhere, right?" she teased.

"I do so love a smart woman," he laughed as his hand landed much more firmly on her bottom. It stung this time, "But not a smart mouthed one. Remember that. I have several ways to keep that pretty mouth occupied. Gag balls among them, sweetheart." 

His hand caressed her other cheek before giving it an equally sound smack that echoed around the room, "Of course, my favorite thing to stuff in that pretty little mouth would be my cock. I bet you'll look so fucking sexy with tears in your eyes and drool running down your chin as you gag on it."

How the fuck could he make something that sounded so demeaning and disgusting sound sexy, she pondered. "Spread your legs for me, my sweet Freya."

Her body went almost limp against the hard wood. It was instantly on fire...a fire that seemed unquenchable. Her nipples were painfully hard pressed against the smooth cold surface. She blushed as she realized that she could almost feel the wetness leaking down the inside of her thighs. 

Only the solid blow to her bare bottom brought her back to reality, "I said, spread those soft thighs for me," his voice was low...controlled. He held no threat, only command. And her obedience was instant this time.

Then his fingers were once more buried deep inside of her, "You do not have permission to come," he whispered against her ear. "Good girls must earn their orgasms. And you want to be my good girl, don't you?"

She was whimpering. Moving and undulating against his hand between her legs. But no matter how hard she tried she just could not seem to get enough, to push herself over the edge. She wanted to come so fucking badly. Then she froze as she realized that she could not. As on fire as her body was she knew...just knew...that she would not be able to. Not without those words...not without his permission. She trembled as that realization filled her mind.

"Trust me, my love. Trust that I adore and am fascinated by these lush curves that just fucking fit my hands so goddess damned perfectly," his hands caressed her breasts, cupping and weighing them before lightly squeezing them. One hand travelled to her throat and squeezed ever so lightly, "Trust me with the very air you breathe."

Did he know how much easier that one was for her? She knew that he would never harm her physically. That was easy. But still some corner of her mind screamed...'chubby chaser.' Men like him never really wanted to be with women like her, they just wanted to use them. 

As for this one...how was it even fucking possible. How could he so easily take control of such a basic physiological response? Orgasms were automatic...your body reached a threshold of excitement and as long as your mind did nothing to stop it then it just happened. So how had this man seemed to put up a wall around that? A wall that only he held the key to the gate. 

"It's okay. I promise you...everything will be fine. Trust me, my sweet Freya."

And just as easily as her body had stopped at his command, its flames instantly flared to a raging inferno. His fingers inside of her did not even move. Her hips did not either. But still those contractions milked them, sucked them deeper. She cried out as her body exploded around them. 

"Yes, just like that. Come on my fingers. On my hard cock. Soon, my love, you won't need anything at all. Just my voice...just those words. I'll be able to sit across the room and watch as you come over and over again. Helpless to stop your body from giving me what I want," this time his fingers plunged all the way inside of her and the orgasm that was already one of the most powerful she had ever felt went to another level as she rode them, took what he offered.

Until her knees buckled. She collapsed spent. Only the rope, his fingers still inside of her and his thigh between her legs held her up. His damp head leaned between her shoulder blades as he pressed tender kisses there. 

"I know, sweetheart. I really do know how much I am asking of you. I know how hard this is. Being naked and vulnerable like this. And especially the power I hold over your orgasms. I know that is a lot to ask. But know this...I love you. I will never hurt you." He turned her head to face him, "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me."

Her throat was dry and tight. She knew there was no way that she could speak. Not a single word. Especially not the important one that pounded almost like a migraine at her temples. Right or wrong...too fucking quickly or not...she knew that she loved this man. Loved him in a way that she thought only existed in the fantasy world of her books. But all she could fucking do was nod through the tears. 

He kissed her lips so softly that it was like the feel of a lady bird walking along your arm...more of a whisper of what could be than what was. "Now, let me give you a taste of another of your fantasies," he whispered before turning back towards the bed. She moaned and whimpered...as he retreated. Nothing he could offer her was worth his retreat just then. She only wanted him to stay close...his touch...him. 

As if he sensed it, he returned quickly. She could see in the mirror, the long thick strands of leather that hung from the handle in his hand. Her breath caught in her throat. It was huge. One of the longest and thickest that she had seen. And she had seen a couple. Not just on that site, but in the sex shop where she bought the corset. But none of them were as beautiful, as well crafted as this one.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 06



Kirsty bit her bottom lip and watched Bjorn in the mirror. Their eyes met and held, something about the way he looked at her stole her breath as surely as his hand on her throat ever did. 

He smiled as he lifted it and ran its long strands softly across her shoulders and back. It was like he had grown extra fingers...dozens of them. "I had them all made just for you. I wanted something that would never touch the skin of another. I picked them up while we were in your country. There is a man there that is a true artist, do you not think?"

He ran the smooth wooden handle across her bottom lip as he held her gaze. "Tell me they please you. Tell me you want them to caress your tender flesh as much as you want my hands to," his whisper was intoxicating. 

The fact that he knew this was among her deepest fantasies, something she had wanted to try from the moment she read about it in her first book. The fact that he had bought them just for her...hand crafted. "Yes, Master," was all she could choke out.

"This one will be thuddy. He has over a hundred falls of softest suede. Over twenty-eight inches long. See how they are even tapered at the end. That gives it more impact, makes it feel even heavier. The man called him super chunky. I call him Thor. The god of thunder. We shall begin with a gentle warm up with him first," he said as he ran his short nails slowly down the length of her spine. 

She watched him in the mirror as he stepped back. She had seen a couple of videos of flogging on that site. They had thrilled and excited her. Done funny things to her tummy. But nothing like this. With only the towel cinched about his waist, he began to slowly twirl Thor. She thought perhaps he had the name wrong...he was Thor and the flogger was Mjolnir. She could almost picture it. 

But when his mighty hammer connected at last with her back, it was not pain which she felt but pleasure. He was right. It was intensely soft...a gentle but firm caress on her skin that seemed like his massages to relax muscles which she did not even realize were tense. She moaned and smiled. This was better...so much better than her fantasies. Better than the videos. Better even than those fucking books. 

Her eyes were glued to the mirror. He was beautiful. Abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous in nothing but that towel, the wooden handle seemed almost to be an extension of his arm as he moved it with no more effort than the gentle flick of his wrists. He might think the maker of the flogger was an artist, but he was the true one. 

She arched back to welcome and greet the next blow. It was a bit harder but still more of the kneading touch of a masseuse. The next came quicker but remained just as gentle. "So fucking beautiful," he smiled at her in the mirror. 

She chuckled, "I was just thinking the same thing about you, my love."

His grin widened and he shrugged, "I am known for my skill with floggers, yes. From the first time I watched it in the clubs, it was what I wanted. I bought my first pair the next day and have practiced ever since."

He landed four blows then in quick succession lower this time. She bit her lower lip to stop from moaning at the sensual caress of heavy leather fingers on her bottom. "I am no sadist. I do not like pain for pain's sake. I prefer the subtle mind fuck of pleasure laced with just the slightest touch..." the next blow landed squarely across both cheeks of her ass. 

She jumped, "Touch of pain. Pleasure," he whispered with a smile as he returned to solid but gentle strokes across her shoulders and upper back. Her eyes glazed over a bit as she watched the flogger dance from hand to hand, it never stopped its sensual dance even in mid-air, the exotic rhythm of wood and leather in his hands. 

She could not move, she simply stared into the mirror fascinated as blow after seductive caress warmed her upper back, bottom and thighs. He was beautiful...he always was. But the look of concentration, the way he moved at one with the flogger. It took her breath away.

"Pain," was the only warning she got as another blow hit, this time her upper thighs. The leather and wood stilled for the first time in his hands as he turned back towards the bed. She saw him lay Thor on the top of the quilt. She stifled a whimper. The damned thing had been so fucking amazing...he was amazing. 

Then he returned, this time he held another in his hand. The handle was almost identical, only thinner. There were way fewer falls too. Probably a dozen or less. And they looked shorter, thinner and thicker. He moved it over her bare back as he spoke, "This is Hermóður. He too is a son of Óðinn. A hero who died trying to save another. Do you know why I call this one Hermóður?"

She shook her head as he once more ran his finger nails down her spine. This time she moaned just a bit at the more intense sensation of them scraping along her flesh. "No, Master. Why?"

His large body covered hers as he leaned in and softly kissed her cheek, "Because, my sweet Freya," his next words were almost lost as her whole body tensed and hung right on the edge of another powerful release. "Because Hermóður is very stingy. I will not break the skin but I want to see the red welts he will leave on your pure white skin. Can you do that for me, Kirsty? Can you be my very brave girl?"

He ran the falls along her arm. They were rougher. She could almost feel their sting and he had not even hit her with it. She swallowed back that tendril of fear as she whispered, "I will try, Master."

He kissed her shoulder just above the stiff leather, "That is my good girl. But I do not want to hurt you. You know what a safe word is, yes?"

"Yes, Master. Red," she replied.

He chuckled, "Is so unimaginative. Hlín, she is the goddess of protection and consolation. You will call on her...and I will be there to offer you those things, my beloved wife. Say it, Hlín."

"Hlín," she whispered with trepidation. 

"Are you ready?" he asked as he stepped back. It was not the pain which she feared but his withdrawal again that left her feeling bereft.

"Yes, Master," she nodded...and waited.

She saw him smile in the mirror, "Watch me, Kirsty. Remember it is not the pain. It is who gives it to you." He drew his arm back and flicked his wrist. She jumped and squealed as the very rough falls connected with her upper back across her shoulder blades. She flinched, it might not be a tawse, and her back was not her cunt. But pain was pain. And it fucking hurt. She felt tears cloud her eyes, but still she watched him.

He was so fucking gorgeous. Not just his looks, but the way he moved was so damned graceful. The intensity in those eyes held hers as another one landed across just the right shoulder this time. "That's my good girl," he smiled at her as another hit her left shoulder. She danced a bit from side to side on her toes. He had said stingy, but he had no idea. This hurt. It fucking hurt, but still she held his gaze in the ancient smoky mirror.

He once more walked back to her. His fingers traced the lines that he had drawn upon her back. She knew because she could fucking feel it. Each stroke burned and stung. "So fucking beautiful," he whispered as he bent and softly licked the one between her shoulder blades. He sighed and kissed her cheek. "Can you manage a few more, my love? Across this gorgeous bum? Can you do that for me?" 

She should have said 'no.' She honestly meant to but the need she saw in those green depths had her whispering, "For you, yes."

He kissed her once more softly upon the lips, "Always for me, my sweet..." Her body came instantly alive and when he stopped it just hung there. Hung over the edge of the whole fucking universe, alive and in pain. "Soon," he whispered as he stepped back.

She stared directly at his handsome face in the mirror. He was not smiling now, the intensity, the darkness that she has always sensed was all there. He was still just as beautiful...perhaps more so. Somehow she knew. This is him. Who he really was. It intrigued her. He intrigued her. 

Then there was no time for thinking as the blows began to fall on her bare bottom and a couple across her upper thighs. She truly danced then. Until his voice caressed her mind through the pain, "Do not move, Kirsty. Hlín if you need to, but do not move." 

"Yes, Master," as those words took on a new depth. In that moment, this man was her Master as the pain clouded her mind even as she craved it and him.

"Spread your legs wide for me." And her obedience was instant. 

Two more blows landed across her upper thighs, this time they angled from the side and wrapped around her legs. The rough sting tickled and tormented the tender flesh just centimeters from her dripping wet pussy. She was certain that its moisture only intensified the pain just as the water in the shower had his barehanded slaps on her bottom. 

Her mind was still trying to process that pain when another blow landed. Straight between her legs. The end of the damned thing seemed to actually bite into her clitoris itself. She cried out and slumped against the wood but she did not close her legs...and she did not say the word she knew he was waiting to hear. 

She hung there...just hung there. It was not just the ropes that suspended her. But time and space themselves somehow seemed to bend and warp. Everything was brighter and darker at the same time. She would have sworn she could even hear the pounding of his heart. Or was it hers? Perhaps it was both as loud as it was. And the gentle whoosh of his breath caressed her as he came to stand behind her once more. 

Then she was falling and only his strong arm about her waist kept her from crashing to the ground. She felt her arms lowered as he turned her in those strong arms. His mouth covered hers and he pressed her tender back against the hard wood. Its coolness soothed the sting and its unyielding lattice imprinted themselves over his art work. His kiss, his taste though were all that registered in her befuddled brain. She knew that she had found her drug...and she was instantly addicted.

His lips still caressing hers, she felt her arms once more lifted out to the side. She felt the tug as he tied them once more to those rings. She was even forced to stand on her tippy toes just a bit by the way the rope twisted and shortened in her hair. Especially when he leaned in and cupped her face, "Look at me, sweetheart."

She smiled as she stared into his eyes, "Yes, Master?" 

"Hlín?" the single word hung between them.

She tried to remember what that was. She knew it was important. But all she knew was him...submission...and pain. Oh, so fucking delicious pain with her back pressed against that wood. She shook her head. Whatever it was, it was not as important as this. As him. 

***

He shook his head as he stared into those wide, glazed eyes. He debated calling it quits. This was her first time. And honestly, she had taken more...far more from Hermóður than most subs could have. They could continue another time. 

Then she arched against him. She moved as far forward as the ropes allowed as she rubbed against him. He felt the wetness caress his thigh as she wrapped those stunning legs about his. She was so hot, so fucking hot and wet. He could smell her need. And he wanted to bury himself as deeply inside of her as he had in the shower. That should have been enough, or at least taken the edge off of his hunger for her. But it did not. He wanted her just as badly now. But he would not. Not yet. And not like that again.

He reached for the end of the towel which was tucked in at his waist. He loved her watching him, but as far gone as she was right now as deep into her pain as she was...she could not be trusted to follow instructions. He still was not certain about this. It made him uncomfortable...intensely so. But her need was not his. 

"I am going to put my towel over your head, sweetheart. Just lightly, ja? But I cannot risk your head falling forward...Loki striking your face. Do you understand me?" She nodded and smiled though how much she truly comprehended he could not be sure. He was careful of her hair as he draped the towel over the top of her head and across her shoulders. 

He moved back slowly, uncertain if she could actually stand on her own. For a moment she did titter but then she found her footing...those legs once more spreading wide apart. He sighed as he walked back to the bed. He picked up Loki and cleared most of the rest of the stuff to the side. Only the few items that he would need remained where he could easily reach them.

Was he delaying? Procrastinating? Hoping that she would come down? Wishing for that word? Not that Doms could not safe word too. And honestly, he was damned close. He fucking hated hurting her. Oh, he loved seeing those stripes, his marks raise proud and bold on that unmarred fair skin. But the pain itself was not his thing. He loved her too fucking much to want to hurt her. Control her, hell, yes, but not hurt her.

But being her Master was not just about what he wanted. It was even more about what she needed. And she needed far more fucking pain than he was comfortable with. That though was the price of owning her, seeing to her needs above his own. 

He walked back to her, she remained exactly as he had left her. He lifted the towel. She had that lazy smile on her lips as she looked up at him. Once more her body arched against him. This time though her legs remained open, which only made things worse. He was completely naked now. His cock painfully hard and the way she moved against him, brushed her swollen pussy lips across the head of it, coating his cock in her need. He was not sure if she spoke or if it was merely a voice in his head, "Please."

He brushed a tender kiss on her cheek knowing it was the answer he needed. Then he lowered the towel once more. "Loki is...well Loki. A troublesome...mischievous...little shit." He chuckled, "Pretty much exactly like me as a kid. He is my darkness." 

He said as he began to twirl the much smaller version of Hermóður. Loki had more falls but they were shorter. He was lighter to handle, but required far more precision than Thor. Lots of precision as he moved forward just enough that the ends of the falls would catch on her hard nipples as they twirled in circles. She moaned and he knew that the light sensation was reaching her befuddled brain.

He stepped back and brought the whole of those falls down hard over the gentle swell of her breast. He watched another red stripe rise viciously across that virgin skin and his cock twitched. He might not enjoy the pain but he fucking loved the power. The power to make her dance on those cute toes, maybe he would even get around to sucking them during after care, but he doubted it. Not now...maybe in a few months...a few years.

He returned to lazily teasing her other nipple with the twirling falls. He alternated between her breasts. Watching her dance, hearing those soft moans had him incredibly hard. This was so much more than one of his 'performances' in the clubs. This was her. And that alone made it special. So fucking different than anything before. 

He lost himself in her moans. He fed upon them. Each blow was carefully aimed to elicit another. Her nipples hardened and turned the most delightful shade of red as the falls worked them as surely as his mouth and teeth ever could. He landed more solid blows across the sloping swell of her tits until the red welts formed a lace like pattern over them. Beautiful was not sufficient to describe it. 

Then he moved slowly downwards. Unlike her back, there was not need to worry about really harming her, avoiding the mid back over the kidneys had been one of the first thing that Uncle Andreas had taught him. But on her front he could draw a complete map from those tantalizing tits across the soft slopes of her stomach. 

Fuck, he could almost hear that soft whisper, 'I'd like that.' Feel her arms about his neck pulling him closer in welcome. In a few months, he hoped like hell there was a good reason to avoid this region as well. His...thrummed like a ballad in his brain. His baby inside of her. 

But he forced his mind away from that too as he moved lower still. "Open wider, Kirsty" he demanded. Even through the haze of subspace, and he knew damned good and well that was where she was right now, even through all that she obeyed instantly. He wanted to pound his shield with a sword like one of his ancient ancestors celebrating a battle victory. 

The first blow on her bare pussy made her jump. A loud whimper greeted his ears. He stepped in just a bit closer. He removed the towel from around her head. There was no need to worry about her pretty face being accidently struck when all of his attention was centered much further south. 

Her eyes were dilated and glassy, but the way she smiled told him that she was not too far gone. He used his body to brace her as he landed more, lighter blows across her mound and the inside of her thighs. 

He smiled as he made certain of his aim. The first blow landed right over her clit. The sound she made then was half scream and half moan. The next one he aimed lower and the falls almost disappeared inside her wet cunt. 

The smell of her was fucking intoxicating, stronger than the vodka that his father, uncles and brothers had given him that first time to celebrate his coming of age. But truly she was that more than some birthday ever had been. Every last moan, whimper and cry that he wrung from her whether by pleasure or pain...made him a man as nothing else ever could.

The last one was perfectly aimed to use all of Loki's power...his playful mischievous evilness. It covered the whole area from clit to cunt as he whispered, "Come for me, my sweet Freya."

She screamed loudly as she collapsed fully against him. So loudly that he swore the giants in Jötunheimr could hear and quake. Her body shook and she stared up at him. His mouth covered her and captured the power of that scream, of her release. It fed the darkness inside of him. He did this. He gave her that. He and he alone. 

He untied her hair first, his mouth never leaving hers. It was quick work with all of the knots. His legs between her thighs braced her as she collapsed into his arms. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He cradled her against his body. Her head fit perfectly into the crook of his arm as he brought the bottle of water to her lips, "Drink." 

She sputtered a bit at first but she obeyed quickly. He was able to get a good deal of the water down her on that first try. She shook her head when he brought the chocolate to her mouth, but he was not having it. He bit off a small piece and leaned down. What she would not accepted from his fingers, he gave her no choice as he kissed it into her mouth. Even that sweetness could not overpower the taste of her though. He forced a bit more of the water down her.

Having made certain that she was partially re-hydrated and that her blood sugars would not crash before he was done, he turned his attention to the next order of business...cleaning her wounds. Though he had been careful not to break the skin, so the risk of infection was low. Still the darker red ones could use cleansing. He had just the thing for that too. 

He reached for the thick length of aloe that he picked from his mother's greenhouse that morning. He had stored it all day in the freezer so that even now, it was cool to the touch, would be soothing to her skin. Her skin...he knew that she would feel it either way he laid her. His marks criss-crossed most of her body. Though most were light pink and fading fast, a few were darker red and raised more against her pale skin. 

He decided to begin with her back and laid her gently face down in the center of the bed. Her whimper as he did so did not sound like one of pain, but one of need. He would see to that too...once this was done. He began by using the cut end of the plant like a crayon to re-trace each of the red marks upon her thighs. He worked his way slowly up her round, soft, lush... 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 06



'Fuck, boy, stop it. This is aftercare. It is about her needs. Not yours,' that voice chided him.

He sighed and nodded as he turned his efforts to her shoulders and upper back. But it was not the few red welts that he had written across the whiteboard of her back that concerned him. It was the nasty looking red and purple bruise that was forming at the point where her neck met her shoulder. He had forgotten how hard he had bitten her when the beast had taken her in the shower. 

His fingers traced the outline of his teeth. "Fuck," he cursed as he noticed a couple of places where his teeth had actually broken the skin. Damn it, damn him to hell. He reached for the first aid kit on the floor. He had not thought, definitely not meant, to use this. It was more a pre-caution. Drummed into them...safety...first, last and always. 'Big boys do not break their toys,' how many times had his father told him that? 

He found what he was looking for and cursed himself for an asshole all over again. He knew this was going to sting. That she was drifting comfortably out of subspace. He hated like hell that he was going to disturb that, but it had to be done. Human bites were not to be played with. He tore open the packet of alcohol wipe.

"Brave for me, my love, be brave one more moment. I will be as quick as I can be," he promised as he whispered into her ear. But the moment, he touched her warm skin with the cold wipe she jumped and squealed. "Shhh, it will be over soon, I promise."

And he kept that promise too. What bothered him though was the tiny voice in his head that gloated, "Let Mikael and Sven see your mark on her. Let them remember she was your choice. Yours." He forced his sick mind away from that dark path as he finished bathing her back in the soothing aloe. 

He turned her over, sitting almost astraddle her hips. His hard cock occasionally brushed her stomach as he pushed a few stray tendrils of hairs back from her face. He found the end of rope that was woven through her hair and untied it. He used his fingers to gentle tug and unwind the braid. Then he bent and kissed her pink lips. "Are you back with me yet?" he whispered against them.

She shook her, "No, I don't want to ever come down."

He chuckled as he reached for the bottle of water and lifted her head and shoulders once more. "Just for a moment then. Drink some more." When she started to shake her head again, he lowered his voice, "Drink." This time she did not argue and almost emptied the first bottle. Satisfied at her efforts, he turned his attention back to caring for her wounds.

He smiled at the precision of the pattern that marked her breasts and stomach. He knew that only a couple of these would remain by morning but damn were they beautiful. This time rather than using the aloe as a crayon to re-trace his handy work, he squeezed some of the slimy center into his palm. 

He moved a bit down her body, straddling her thighs now and began with her stomach. He tenderly massaged it into her skin. He began at the top of her mound, his fingers splayed as they fanned out and caressed the soft swell. He growled as her words echoed once more in his mind, "Did you mean it? What you said earlier?"

Her eyes came open and she slowly leaned up, raising herself up, leaning upon her elbows, "Earlier? What is that? Mean what?" her throaty whisper and giggle caressed his raging ego...it calmed just a bit of his need to possess this woman fully. If he could do this to her, make her forget everything else, why wasn't that enough? Why could he not be satisfied with what he had with her? 

Why did this matter to? "About my baby...that you'd like that?" he whispered as he bent his head and kissed the area that his fingers had been massaging only seconds before. 

She sighed, "Honestly, Bjorn, all I can say right now is...I think so." She shook her head and he saw tears glistening in her eyes, tears his stupid need to push for everything at once had put there. And he loathed himself even more. 

He could tell that it took all her strength just then, but she made the effort...for him. As she lifted a hand and ran it over his head, holding him there. "I am sorry. I know that isn't what you wanted to hear. And it is not you. It is just...what happened yesterday...what people would think and say."

He nodded, he understood, probably better than she did. And he reminded himself once more...patience. There was time for all of it. She was his now. Theirs. It would come. In time. "Jag är ledsen. I am sorry. I should not have said anything."

She smiled, "Give me some time, please. I just need to work through things in my head. And it is all in my head, Bjorn. Because, if it helps, yes, my heart meant that."

He laughed against her skin, "Oh, I have no idea what you speak of, woman. Battling between your heart and head? No idea...whatsoever."

Her fingers caressed his cheek tenderly as she too chuckled, "Absolutely not, my beautiful Thor...and my devious Loki."

"So which did you like best? Thor? Loki? Hermóður?" He smiled as he whispered into her belly button.

She frowned and bit her bottom lip for a long moment, "Do I have to choose?"

And those simple words cut through it all. Sliced to the core of his dark soul. Pierced his heart. And shattered his mind every bit as much as what he was asking of her in that moment. He pressed another tender kiss to her tummy as he shook his head, "No, my sweet Freya, you never have to choose." 

And as he held her trembling body, smelled her sweet need so fucking close to his mouth, he swore that whatever demons he had to face, he would keep his word. He would never make her choose again. He would find a way to share the one thing he discovered he did not want to. "Now lay back. I am not finished with you," he said as he squeezed more of the plant into the palm of his hand. 

"I certainly hope not. Hope you never are," she whispered as she lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. He used his leg to spread her thighs open. Where before he had been astride them, now he used his body as a wedge, forcing them open wider. 

His hands cupped her breasts as he squeezed them tenderly and massaged the soothing coolness into them. "Never. I will never be finished with you," he leaned down and whispered as he buried his face between her thighs and allowed his tongue to give her the other thing that she needed just as much then. 

He worked her clit until her hips were arching up to meet his tongue. He licked the sweet nectar from her pussy before it could trickle down. Was wasted upon the quilt. He dined at her font like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. When he knew that she could wait no longer, he growled, "Come for me, my sweet Freya," into her very core.

Once more she screamed her release as her thighs tightened around his head. He honestly did not give a fuck if he died right then. Drowning in the sweet taste of her would be better than giving his dark soul in payment to Njörður. Fuck, it would be better anything his ancestors might have known by entering Valhalla blood stained from battle. 

He felt her tremors as she collapsed back against the bed. But still he lapped tenderly at the sweetness. It was so fucking intense. Not that he had never done this before with another woman. But none had tasted this sweet. None were her. 

It took him several long moments to get himself under control. Even then he did not want to stop. But he knew what she needed most now was sleep. Rest. In his arms this night. He forced himself to abandon her delectable little cunt as he lay on the bed next to her. 

He scoped her into his arms and drew her tightly against his chest. "Sleep now, my love," he whispered as he kissed her lips. 

The intensity of it all was still overwhelming. As much as he fought it...even when he did manage to win the battle, he felt like he was losing the war. Losing himself in this woman. He sighed as he tenderly kissed the top of her head. Sometime in this life time, the intensity of these emotions had to wear off...right?

***

As the very first ray of dawn filtered through the open curtains, Olaf lay on his side. He had been up for some time. Just watching her sleep. It really was not fair. The woman got more fucking beautiful every year that passed. His fingers brushed a strand of her silver hair back from her cheek. 

Forty-two years. Three sons. Three brothers lost. More cold winters than he wanted to remember. More pain than most people could bear. They had seen it all come and go. And he loved her more today than he had then. 

It did not seem right. Was not fair. Their bodies might change, age, and slow just a bit. But what he felt for her seemed to grow as exponentially as the punishments he threatened. They must be approaching infinity by now. 

But it was all those wasted years that had kept him awake half the damned night. All the mistakes. All the times he should have or could have given her what she needed. Her tears had been like an acid burning away the safe wall that he had erected around that part of himself. 

He wanted to blame Stig for not allowing them to punish her, even when she needed it. But he understood. Understood his brother's fear. They had all felt it...not just when she almost died but as her light and sunshine that they had all come to rely upon was hidden behind those dark clouds. He understood his brother's guilt too. Why he blamed himself. 

And Andreas. It would be so fucking easy to blame him. The way he had withdrawn from her, from them all. The way he had sought to deaden the pain in the bottom of a bottle. Until that bottle swallowed him as surely as the sea had. Njörður, their patron god of the sea, wind, fish and wealth, was a demanding bastard. 

But he could not blame them. He more than either of them had known the truth. He had none that she needed it. Needed their control. And he had allowed Stig's orders to stand...long past when their woman no longer needed the kid gloves his brother had insisted they use with her. 

But there really was no excuse for his own negligence after his brother's death. He had known she needed true submission and not the milk toast games that they played once in a while in the bedroom. But he had not been willing to press the issue to correct two decades of mistakes. Until it was almost too late. 

But it was not...last night proved that. It proved too that she needed this as fucking much as he did. More even. How had he managed to forget the lesson that they had always worked so fucking hard to instil in her soft heart? The woman had been a natural mother, as much as she might have first chafed at the idea of being 'their brood mare and prize heifer.' 

He could still see the fire in those green eyes as she threw that fucking fishing hook that first night on the ship. They had learned to keep dangerous things out of her reach after that. But damn the number of plates and cups this woman had gone through over the years...any time she was mad at one of them something managed to get broken somehow. 

But the one thing she had never understood was that children needed boundaries. She had been content to let the boys run wild...and Bjorn especially had done that. The one though that had needed boundaries the most was her. He had conveniently forgotten that subs like children needed those boundaries to feel safe, to feel secure, and to know that they are loved and protected. Protected by someone stronger than they were. 

And that was the problem that he had allowed Petrine to swallow his Rachel for too fucking long. Not that he did not like the women...he did. He admired her strength. Her grace. But he had known...he of all of them had known the price his Rachel was paying to hold that mask in place. He had known because he was every bit as much an expert at playing a role as his beloved wife. 

But time for role playing, games and the safety of masks to protect your true fucking feelings was long gone. He had wasted enough years. He might like to tell her that he would give her another thirty to make up for the ones they had lost, but he knew there were no guarantees. Hell, they had all learned that lesson when Lars had died. His brother was still more a boy than a man when Njörður claimed his price. No, today, this moment, this sunrise was all he could promise her. 

And it was long past time, they started it off right. Past time, for fresh starts and new dawns. As his hand slapped her warm butt that had felt so fucking good cradling his cock last night, "Wake up, woman. Time to face the music...pay the fiddler." 

Those eyes were sleepy as she stretched. Then that sexy, slow smile spread across her still beautiful, if slightly more lined face. "Good morning," she purred just like her fucking cats when they deigned to wrap about your leg. 

He loved that look. Satisfied. He loved even more knowing that he had put it there. But not enough to be distracted from what must be done. He landed another solid slap to her surprisingly firm butt and this time she jumped a bit, drawing the duvet up to cover her naked tits. "Time to get it over with."

She frowned and pouted, "Get what over with, Old Man?" She feigned ignorance, another of her bratty games that he recognized. But this time it was not going to work. 

"Your punishment."

She shook her head and began to toy with the hairs on his chest, "Oh that. Don't you think that I have learned my lesson? I mean all that punishment stuff...we are older now, we don't really need those games."

"No, Rachel, we have been playing 'games' long enough. You know as well as I do that we lost our way when we allowed it to become games instead of who we are." He smiled and kissed her good morning, then landed another warm up on her bottom, "So stop with the brat shit and no, woman, you still cannot outrun me so do not get any ideas. I promised you a punishment and you are getting one."

Olaf shook his head, how could pouting be so fucking sexy on a sixty-three year old woman? But it had never been her brat that got the better of him and he was not about to start now. He had spent part of the time while he watched her sleep devising an appropriate punishment for her. One that would make her think twice before calling their sons 'boys' again, but was also fair. In the end, he had the perfect solution. 

"You shall choose your punishment, Rachel," her frown told him that this path was the right one. "Fifty barehanded, twenty with the cane...or ten with Forseti. Which will it be?"

She pulled out of his arms and stared him down, "Are you crazy, old man? Twenty with the cane? The fucking cane! You know I hate that thing."

He shrugged, "Then don't choose it. You have other options."

"Options! Options? You want me to choose my own fucking punishment? How about this? I sleep in the guest room for a month then?"

He chuckled as he ran his hand up her inner thigh under the quilt, "Punishment is not supposed to be that extreme, Rachel." He found what he was looking for and expecting as he slipped two fingers inside of her very wet hole. "You could not last one week, woman." He pressed firmly against that special spot and was reward with a low moan and wetness that spread down his fingers to his hand. "You could not last a day, Rachel."

***

Damn him, damn the old man to Helviti. He always knew her. Knew her better than the others. Fuck him, sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself...and that was saying something. 

But there was no way of stopping her body from its natural reaction and honestly, she would never get that mad. 'Cutting off your nose to spite your face,' her grandmother would have called it and she had never been that foolish. 

Though perhaps she could use this to her advantage too. Last night had been...well, it was for damned certain she would not be opposed to a repeat performance. Sans his damned serenade of course. "Olaf," she moaned as her hands on his shoulders drew him closer. "Please."

Damn him again as his fingers drew back slowly and he shook his head. That fucking smile that she knew too damned well lit his steel grey eyes as he shook his almost white head, "No, woman, it won't work. After your punishment. Not before."

She pushed back from him, "After? Fuck that shit. Who says I'd even let you?"

His deep roar of laughter echoed around their bedroom, "You never get that mad, woman, and we both know it." Of course, he knew that too. After a lifetime, this man knew her...literally inside and out. 

And she knew him too. He was the one that she could never 'play.' Mister Steady. If Andreas had been her great passion, Stig had been her dark mystery, this man had always been her best friend. And that meant they shared a truth between them...a deep and abiding one. Even through the lies, they always knew the truth, even if they did not speak of it. Especially when they did not speak of it. 

He would not be dissuaded. And if she were to be honest with herself, she did not want him to be. Not that she wanted to be punished, but more that she needed to know, really know, that they were putting an end to the lie they had been living so long. That at least with him, it was safe. Petrine could allow Rachel out...in his arms anyway. 

But that did not mean Petrine did not expect the man to prove he was stronger than she was. "There are always a first time for everything, old man."

Another solid blow on her derrière caused her to frown, "Quit the games, Petrine. And those do not count. Think of them as warm-ups...richly deserved ones too. I gave you a choice so make it."

He fucking even knew that...knew when it was Petrine and when Rachel spoke. Damn him, damn him, damn him. But there was no other choice. She was not going to win or distract him when he got like this. So her only choice was fifty barehanded or ten with... "Justice...peace...and truth?" she frowned. 

His face softened for a moment as he caressed her cheek, "Damn woman, I love the fact that you know your Norse mythology as well as you do that fucking Greek and Roman shit. Yes, Forseti, the god of justice, peace and truth. And that is what I would have between us from now on. Even if I have to use him on that sweet ass of yours every damned day to get it."

She was intrigued to say the least. She knew what the cane was like and had no desire to taste its stingy bite ever again. Barehanded had been one of the things they had not abandoned, even if it were more game than real. But just the name... Forseti. "May I see then?"

"No," he smiled, "That too is part of your punishment."

"Hell, making me choose is fucking punishment enough, old man."

His eyes danced, "Part of it, yes, but not enough. Not for what happened. Not to give us that clean slate I want, Rachel. You want that too, I know you do." His eyes darkened as he bent and kissed her. 

Damn the man, his lips still did funny things to her as her hands cupped his bearded cheeks and held him to her. By the time, he drew back reluctantly, she was breathless. Damn him even more, the man had always been the most amazing kisser. It was never just foreplay with him, he had always poured himself into it. And she felt it to her toes. 

His eyes had lightened to that silvery color that she recognized as passion. "But even more important than what I want, is what you need, Rachel. Not that I don't admire the fuck out of Petrine. I probably even like the bitch. But I miss you, sweetheart. I miss that girl who was happy just sitting in the sunshine and reading. The one who did not give a damn what anyone thought about her. I miss her fucking laughter so damned much. I want that to be the last damned thing I hear before I make that final journey to Valhalla," he brushed away a tear that she could not stop at the thought of what he asked. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 06



And he brought it to his lips and tasted her pain. This man had never been afraid to taste her pain. When Andres hid in the bottle and Stig cursed and raged at Fate and every other god there was, he had sat there. Just there and held her while she cried. She had forgotten that. Forgotten just how strong and true this man was. 

"Forseti," she whispered. Because he was right, she wanted that truth and peace between them once more. And if she had to face his justice to get there, then so be it. 

***

Kirsty had no idea what time it was. Damn, she hated that about this room. No windows. No sun light in the morning. Sure, it added to the whole dungeon ambiance. But damn it, she missed the sun waking her in the morning. 

She had insisted that Bjorn leave on one of the scone lights by the door when he got up in the middle of the night to get her more water. And chocolate. She giggled against his warm skin. The idea of someone, who looked like him, feeding her chocolate in bed? It was the stuff of adverts. She would just have to be careful not to overdo it. 

Of course, maybe she could take up a new exercise program...sex-ercise. And when she tried to move just a bit even, she remembered just how sore muscles could get from that regime. Not that she regretted it. Just that if Mikael's fingers and tongue had been work out enough, then Bjorn's cock had been 'feel the burn' time. 

She shifted in his arms and looked up just in time to see him frown in his sleep. Then he drew her closer again. The man complained of her pouting? He should look in the mirror at that frown sometime. But it did nothing to detract from his masculine beauty. It really was not fair. She must look a mess. Red hair tangled and all over the place and Thor had to look...well, like Thor. Even in his sleep. 

She could not stop her hand that rested over his heart from drawing little patterns on his breast bone. Then she realized what she was doing and laughed. Her initials...KD...she was writing them over his heart with her finger. But then again this man made her feel like a teenager...like first love. Of course, it might be damned good that she was not a virgin at least not when it came to rough shower sex.

She bit her lip as her eyes were drawn to something lower than his heart. Though it seemed to be pulsing in perfect time to it. She slid her hand slowly down his abs...six pack be damned this man was more like a twelve one. 

She blushed once more and tried to push that thought from her mind. When was he going to wake up, really wake up and realize that he could do so much better than her? He could have any woman he wanted, probably even models and actresses. And none of them would give a damn about him being a simple fisherman. Not when they looked at him...and definitely not if they liked rough sex and floggers. 

No matter what he said...and when he looked at her that way, she could almost believe he meant. But the truth was that one day, this man was going to look at the cellulite on her thighs and ass, at the fact that not even after six months in the gym was her tummy half as flat as it should be. One day, he was going to really see all that...and what then?

Maybe that was what had kept her from saying those words last night, more than how quick things had moved with them. Maybe it was the fact that she still could not accept that a man, who looked like this, could honestly want someone who looked like her. She felt the tears burning in her eyes and she fought like hell to hold them back. She swallowed hard, trying to choke them back. 

Then she felt those fingers caress her cheeks. It was only then that she realized she had lost the battle at some point. She tried her hardest to smile as she looked up at him and whispered, "Good morning." 

He shook his head against the pillow as he brought his finger to his lips and sucked her tear from it. Tasted her tears as he had others parts of her last night. "No, it is not. Not when I wake to this. Tell me, sweetheart." He drew her tighter into his arms. His fingers laced through that tangled mop of ginger hair. 

She tried shaking her head, "It is nothing," she lied as her hand moved lower beneath the quilt. His larger one covered it just a couple of centimeters above his hard cock. 

"No, you will not distract me with sex. I asked you a question and I want an answer," his voice was husky, low and demanding. How could she possibly explain? How could someone like him ever understand what it was like? 

She might have gone to girls' schools until university, but not even that could shelter her from the truth. From the beginning, the taunts had been their 'carrot top,' 'ginger,' 'chubby' and those were the nice ones. Her mother might want to idealize feminism as women supporting one another, but the truth was...they were more vicious, more brutally honest than any man ever would be. 

If little boys beat the crap out of one another on the rugby field, asserting their dominance that way. Then little girls did it with their words. And despite the old saying about sticks and stones, words could hurt you...sometimes in more lasting ways than broken bones. Bones mended and when they did they were stronger than before. Not so with the wounds on your heart, soul and mind.

It did not help either to remember the wedding photos that she had seen on social media. The man she had given six years of her life to standing next to the bride that was as petite and beautiful as she was tall, fat and ugly. There...she said it... "Ugly and fat."

***

He should have known. It always came down to that. To the fact that the woman he loved...could not love herself. 

He rolled on top of her, entered her slowly until he pressed as deeply inside of her as he dared considering how rough he had been last night. Her eyes even though they still swam with tears glazed over with need immediately. Her body moved beneath his, flowering open like one of his mother's morning glories at the first rays of dawn. And every bit as wet as the dew upon those flowers too. "Does that feel like I find you...fat and ugly?" He found it hard to even force those words from his throat...when they came to her.

She shook her head, "That is just sex. Biology. A morning boner. Men are not all that picky...they will fuck anything." She was not even looking at him. Her eyes were closed. She was fighting her own need for him, he knew that.

"Really, my beautiful wife?" He bent his head until his mouth rested just against her ear as he whispered, "Not this one. Look. At. Me. Now." It was the first time he had used that voice, that tone, was that truly demanding with her.

Her eyes opened slowly as he leaned back on his elbow. He used his other hand to wipe away more of the tears that continued to fall. "You want to hear a little secret, my beautiful wife?" She flinched. She drew back and scrunched up that pretty face. She had barely done that last night when he took her so too roughly. He swore then he would use those words as often as he needed to until she stopped doing that. Until she believed them too.

"I said look at me. Look me in the eyes and listen to what the fuck I have to say, Kirsty," he demanded. This time he did not turn her head towards him. He simply waited. Several long heart beats until those blue eyes met his. Until he knew he had her undivided attention. "You were my first. On the boat that first night."

He laughed at the way her mouth fell open. Her head shook from side to side on the pillow. "Oh yes, my beautiful wife, I waited for you. Waited for something more than just a casual fuck."

"No, that's not possible," she whispered as her brows scrunched tightly in a frown.

He shrugged, "Don't get me wrong. I was no monk, my beautiful wife. I have had more than a couple subs suck my cock." He bent low, "Something we still have not gotten around to yet, but we will. The idea of watching you gag on it," he breathed deeply and shook his head. "But back to the point and yes, I have tasted more than one pussy too. Just never one as sweet as yours. And hell, one of the first things I discovered on the Internet was porn."

He brushed another tear from the corner of her eye, "Never again tell me that this is just sex. We both know you are right, I could have had 'just sex' any fucking time I wanted. I had enough offers. And yeah, some of those women were everything that pretty little head of yours is so fucking worried about. But I didn't. Even with their legs spread wide and them begging, I waited. I waited for you. For something that was more than...just sex."

His free hand moved over her body, slowly. He caressed it as he allowed what he had told her to sink into that sometimes thick head of hers. He hand cupped her breast. His thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple until she was panting, "So the next time that little voice whispers those nasty things in your head remember this I fucking choose you. Do you understand, sweetheart? I choose you."

He sighed as he watched her shake her head and more tears gathered in those blue depths, "No, you still don't. But damn it, woman, one day you will. One day, someday, some fucking how, I will make you see yourself the way I see you."

She breathed deeply. He watched as she fought back the tears, the denial, and the pain, all of it. "Yes, Master," she whispered feebly.

He shook his head, "No Master here this morning. Just a man who is very much in love with his wife. A man, who feels like a fucking failure because he cannot make her see how fucking beautiful she is in his eyes."

He bent and kissed her lips. Put a stop to whatever other denial and drivel she was about to say. "So if he cannot make her listen to what he says, maybe he can show her how he feels." 

He nibbled at her bottom lip until her mouth opened. Though he wanted to charge the gates, conquer and demand her surrender, he did not. He gently coaxed. He tasted and savoured. He drank from her depths until she was moaning into his mouth. "Please, Bjorn, please."

"Please, what, my beautiful wife?" His tongue traced her lower lip as he moved slowly inside of her for the first time since he entered her. 

Her breathing became shallow, so damned fast that he was afraid she would pass out, "Please," she moaned. "Please fuck me."

He leaned back once more, "No, I will not fuck you. That plea is as useless as all of theirs were." He moved his hips in a long slow circle, watched her whole body tense and arch against his. Her eyes closed as her head buried itself deeper into the soft pillow. 

He bent and captured the hard nipple that he had been torturing for minutes. He wanted to bite her. Wanted, maybe needed, her to wear even more of his marks. But instead he softly lapped at it until a low whimper went his soul. "No, I won't fuck you, my beautiful wife. But I do intend on making love to you."

He reluctantly allowed the nipple to slip from his lips as he bent to her ear once more, "No permission, no holding back, no triggers. I just want you to give your body to me...as I give mine to you. Understood?"

"Yes, Mas..." she stopped and turned her head towards him. She smiled as she wrapped her arms about his neck.

***

"Yes, Bjorn," she answered. As this time it was she who captured his lips. She who drew him down to taste of his sweetness.

Her mind still rebelled at his little surprise. How a man that looked like this was still... She choked on the word. A virgin. At twenty-eight? It boggled her mind. But she knew that he was not lying. Her heart accepted what he said, even if it did not understand either. 

And she had to admit...it was sexy. She did feel special. And more than a bit naughty as she lifted her hips to meet his slow thrust, she winced a bit as she flexed muscles that were incredibly sore. But the quick intake of his breath was more than worth a bit of pain. Besides she was still discovering just how much she liked the stuff. 

Oh she felt more than a bit naughty, the ideas of games they could play...she liked the idea of defiling the little innocent just a bit. But the way he slowed and moved his hips inside of her rather quickly abused her of the idea of him being all that innocent. And the way that he stared into her eyes as he lowered his head to taste her nipple once more had her whimpering and mewing. 

She laced her fingers through his hair and held him to her breasts as he suckled. As she closed her eyes, his words of last night flashed like lightening through her mind. Oh yes, her heart very much wanted this man's child. More so now than ever.

But first she had other ideas. "No Master? No domination? No submission? No fucking?" she asked. "No rules?"

He nodded his head against her breast and answered without even releasing her nipple, "No rules. Just a man loving his wife."

She smiled and it was only the element of surprise that allowed her to win the tussle as she rolled them so that it was she on top. She sat astride him, his cock still firmly buried in her wet folds. But her nipple had managed to slip from his lips as she arched back. 

"Or a wife loving her husband," she said as she began to move slowly up and down his hard cock. 

His breath was labored. He pulsed and grew inside her tight pussy. She was still sore, intensely so but this position helped with that too. Gave her more control of both depth and speed. Even his hands gripping her hips so tightly could not force her fully down upon him...not until she was ready anyway. 

Those green eyes captured her gaze. They seemed even green somehow as he growled, "Does she?"

Her own mind was anything but clear as she felt him flex inside of her, go just a tad deeper. All of her best intentions to slowly seduce him flew out the window as she felt her body greet his. Liquid seeped from her cunt, coated his cock and drew him even deeper until she moaned and slipped fully down on his hard cock. 

His hands on her hips halted her movements, held her perfectly still with his cock buried to the hilt inside of her as he looked up at her once more, "Do you? Do you love me, Kirsty?"

Her throat tightened. She was not sure she was ready for this. It was not admitting it to him that bothered her. It was admitting it to herself. All those voices in her head kept whispering lies...too soon...too handsome...different worlds...this craziness of sharing her. There was so many fucking reasons not to. 

But the most important reason...that look in his eyes...was what won in the end, "Yes, yes, I love you, Bjorn."

He smiled up at her and rolled them quickly so that he once more loomed larger than life over her, so that he was all she could see...or feel. "About fucking time, you admitted it, my beautiful wife," he said as he wrapped one of her legs about his waist and captured her mouth in a soul searing kiss. 

And then he proceeded to do exactly what he had promised her...show her with his body how much he really, truly did love and worship her. By the time he finally plunged deep inside of her and trembled in her arms, she was almost half convinced that her Thor really was hers...as improbable as that might seem. At least she knew...she wanted to believe it. Believe him. She wanted it to be true as much as her body wanted his...as much as she did honestly want this man's baby. 

When he collapsed against her neck, she wrapped her arms about him tightly. Even when he tried to roll away a bit, she would not let him. She did not need to breathe half as much as she needed to hold onto impossible dreams just then. And they were sweet dreams as her arms tightened about him and she drifted off to sleep crushed beneath him. She did not even mind his gentle snores against her ear. Hell, at least, the man was not completely perfect, she giggled as she joined him in the land of dreams. 

And the gods and goddesses in Asgard looked upon the mere mortals with envy.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 07



Breakfast was almost over by the time, they managed to make it downstairs. She smiled at Mikael, who was trying valiantly to feed Monika as she brushed her dolls hair and then lined them up perfectly next to the wall. Petrine looked up and smiled at her as she took a plate off the table, "God morgon, good morning."

Kirsty blushed as she tried to come up with an excuse for their tardiness, but Olaf simply chuckled and looked past her to Bjorn, "God dag is more like it." She could not stifle the chuckle as her Thor's ears reddened and he looked sheepishly at the floor.

Sven stood and took his plate to the kitchen, "I need to go into town for some things. So if you will all excuse me. Hopefully, by the time I get back, we can still manage a bit of repairs on the boat, baby brother?"

Bjorn's face darkened into a frown, "I'll go with you into town now if you like, big brother." He moved between them, his hand gently pushing her more behind him as he spoke. 

"Not necessary. I just need to see if a package has arrived for me," despite Bjorn's efforts, she felt this man's stare to her core. She knew that whatever it was, it pertained to her. 

She placed her hand on Bjorn's shoulder. Right then, she needed him. Needed his protection. Needed to steady herself. She was not prepared for this. Not after last night. Especially not after this morning. She trembled. She wanted to turn and run back up those stairs. Lock herself in that room...and cry. 

As hard as it was coming to terms with how she felt about Bjorn, she knew that Mikael needed something very different from her. And while she was still very much attracted to her 'bad boy,' it was the loving daddy that she could focus upon as she came to terms with everything. She recognized too that their 'truce' would give her that time to adjust...to all of it.

But this man? Sure, she was still attracted to him. The whole dark brooding thing still made her tummy tighten into knots. Almost as much as his ropes did...although she was learning that none of them were a slouch with that, but Sven was still as much the master with it as Bjorn was with those floggers last night. 

Just then more powerful even than that attraction was her anger at him. He did not genuinely need her the way Mikael did to help him reach Monika. He sure as hell did not love her the way his 'baby' brother did. 

No, he just wanted to use her. Just wanted to 'breed' her like some race horse or prize show dog. Well, she had no intention of being his 'bitch.' Not that way. She was determined. If she were to have a baby...when she had a baby...it would be one conceived in love. And that pretty surely left Atlas out of the 'sperm wars' as Mikael called it. Let him fucking keep on carrying the weight of the world all alone on his shoulders.

Then Petrine stepped forward and smiled at her as she placed her hand on her eldest son's arm, "Is it all right if I come with you, Sven? I need to go into town for a bit."

His face lightened as he turned away from the two of them. He smiled at his mother, "Of course, Mama. I will be leaving in five minutes." But that dark mask was back the moment he turned back around, "If you will excuse me."

That might have been all, if he had not reached out his hand as they passed one another. Him on this way up the stairs. Her on the way to the table. His fingers brushed hers lightly. "I will talk to you later."

And suddenly she had no appetite. Because as angry as she was with him, as much as she liked Mikael, even as fucking much as she loved Bjorn...she still got those same butterflies in her tummy as she had when she first saw that grainy photograph, when she looked up into those blue eyes and that hand had drawn her through that turnstile.

And into this madness...that was her life now. 

She looked up and saw the dark pain on Bjorn's face, but still he forced a smile and nodded at her. She saw Mikael watching them as he held a spoon of porridge suspended in mid-air. But it was Petrine's smile and soft nod that reminded her, 'sometimes it is the one's that you find hardest to love that need it the most,' Kirsty could almost hear the woman whisper in her ear.

She nodded as she pulled her hand away slowly, "Sure."

He nodded and continued on his way, just as she continued on hers. But it was enough. Enough of a reminder to turn her stomach sour. She tried to bypass the table as she headed towards where Petrine now stood in the kitchen area washing dishes, "Let me help with those."

"No, I will help Mama," it was Mikhail, who spoke loudly across the room as he picked up the bowl he had been trying to feed Monika. She smiled as he gently signed, "Food finished," using Makaton. But what made her really smile was that while she did not look up at her father, did not say anything or even make a noise, Monika paused in mid-stroke through her doll's hair. 

She felt the tightness in her chest at how quickly the child was responding. This...this was something she had missed her whole career. When you saw a child for less than an hour once every week or two, you never noticed the small strides. She felt the tears clouding her eyes as she looked up and saw him. 

He smiled at her...and she knew, knew that he too recognized that tiny victory, baby step of progress. In that moment, she knew...she could love this man too. Maybe not the same way that she did Bjorn. Definitely not. But that did not make it any less...or any more real. 

She frowned as she nodded and looked up the stairs where he had disappeared. Him? He was another matter. If he wanted a damned son so fucking badly, there were other options. Let him find a surrogate...because she sure as hell wanted no part in being nothing more than that for the man. 

She felt the gentle hand on her shoulder, "Go eat some breakfast. This old heart cannot handle another scare like yesterday, my beautiful daughter. I have waited too damned long to have one. Eat. Let Bjorn and Mikael see to your needs this morning. We will talk more this afternoon." 

The woman leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against her cheek, "It is a real bitch when love comes into this mess. And you, beautiful, have the look of a woman very much in love. But remember what I said...not all of them are as easy to love. But you are the one that can draw it out...or you can turn away their needs. But never doubt for a moment, they all need you, need your love."

Then she felt warm arms embrace her, draw her close and she knew the same peace and safety in this woman as she had in her son's this morning. How many times had she dreamt of this as a little girl? When she was confused, lonely or frightened. How many times had she wished for her own mother to just hug her, hold her and tell her everything would be all right? 

Petrine released her slowly, "Go, eat some breakfast. When I come back from town, you and I will take Monika back to the playground. You need to teach me some of this Makaton stuff too." She brushed a hair back from Kirsty's face, "You really are the one, sweetie. You are perfect. For them. For my granddaughter. Even for him."

Kirsty saw a shadow cross the older woman's face and she gently squeezed her hand, when she smiled at her this time there was something almost forced about it. "And I have a story to tell you. The story of my wild flowers. But first you must eat."

Petrine smiled as she took the bowl from Mikael and placed it in the sink. "Off with you too. I can manage a couple of dishes."

"Let him help, woman. Go get ready to join Sven." Kirsty saw the startled and almost pained look on the woman's face as Olaf playfully swatted the woman's butt...that she still envied. 

The way the woman jumped at such a light slap was confusing. Until she saw that blush and the way the older woman dropped her eyes and whispered, "Yes, Sir," as she scurried past her with a wink.

She could not stifle the giggle as she turned back to the table. "Nuts do not fall far from the trees in this family, it seems," she whispered. 

Her husband smiled up at her as he moved over a bit for her to sit next to him. "What did you say?"

She shook her head and smiled, "Nothing...absolutely nothing."

He leaned in and nibbled her ear, "No secrets, remember?" He bit down hard and she tried her best to stifle a moan but it still came out a low whimper. "I will get it out of you. Trust me on that one."

She caressed his handsome face, "Trust me, my love...some secrets, you do not want to know."

His face darkened once more, but this time she recognized it was passion, as he bent in and captured her lips, "I want all your secrets, woman." She sighed as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and caressed hers. By the time he drew back, she was breathless. 

"Here, you need to eat," it was Mikael's voice from over her shoulder that brought her back to reality as he sat a bowl of the steaming porridge and a cup of tea in front of her. 

She saw them look at one another. Size one another up like wolves or lions. Then Bjorn nodded and smiled, "Thank you, brother. Do you need help with the dishes?"

Mikael shook his head, "No, I can handle it. Monika is still playing with her dolls," he smiled as he nodded to where his little girl sat brushing their hair once more. "You take care of her. We don't want to her dropping again like yesterday."

Bjorn nodded, "Thank you." He turned to her with a soft smile, "But if you don't start eating that damned porridge, your ass is going to get punished."

She thought about the look on Petrine's face when Olaf lightly tapped her bottom. "Definitely not," she giggled. Both of them just stared at her puzzled. Some secrets they were not ready to hear.

***

Olaf watched Bjorn as he virtually gouged the wood with the plane. He was tempted to laugh, except that his son's pain overrode it. He might be the spitting image of his father, but there was no doubt that it was his mother's soft heart that was giving him trouble this day. 

"Sometimes a lighter touch works better than all the heavy handedness in the world," he smiled to him. "Give me the plane. I'll show you."

He saw the momentary flash of anger in those eyes that was the only physical resemblance to his mother. Not just the color, but way they danced with this man's emotions. He stepped back, half expecting Bjorn to throw the plank he had been planing at him. But after a moment, he just shrugged and handed the tool to him. 

He took it and began to run it with the grain of the wood, shaving it lightly as the younger man watched in silence. "See how easy it is when you work with the woods own nature? When you allow the tool to simply do its job?"

Bjorn simply nodded in silence as he lifted a bottle of water and drank from it. Olaf returned his attention to wood, but he saw how Bjorn watched without seeing. It was not Stig that he reminded him of then, but Andreas. 

The two men both felt too deeply. Loved too much. He had watched that kind of love destroy his brother. He did not want to see that happen to this one too. "It is not the easy 'happily ever after' fairy tale that your mother wove for you, is it, son?"

Bjorn looked off, studied the clouds as if searching for the answer. He waited, just waited. Wondered if Bjorn would have found it easier to talk about this with his own father. But the truth was that the man would not have understood. Would not have had the answers his son needed even if he were alive. His answer like Sven's had always been to bottle such emotions...work harder. But he could never drown himself in work or the sea any more than Andreas could the bottle. Sometimes the only thing you could do in this life was tread water...and wait. 

When it finally came, Bjorn's only answer was a gentle nod of his head. Olaf debated his course of action. He was not sure that his counsel would be welcome. But then too he had spent decades watching silently as his brothers self-destructed. And gods be damned, he was not doing it with his sons...any of them.

"Your mother meant well, son. But she conveniently forgot all the black eyes, broken ribs and bruised knuckles." He chuckled, "I never did get how such a fucking smart woman could buy all our excuses about 'accidents'."

Bjorn frowned and shook his head, "Why don't I remember any of that growing up?"

"Because things changed after you were born." It was Olaf that studied the clouds then. Whether it was the gods and goddesses in Asgard or his brother from whom he sought guidance, he was not certain. So many fucking secrets. He knew what they had done to his wife but the ugly truth was that this one was a ticking time bomb that could destroy all this man had come to believe in. 

In the end though, it was not his truth to reveal. But it was something he and Rachel needed to talk about. Bjorn was not a child anymore. Their feeble excuses of protecting and shielding him were no longer valid. He had as much right to know the truth as his brothers. Just not now. Not like this. And not from him.

"Things happen. People grow up. It was a wakeup call when we lost Lars," that much was the truth for now at least. "You learn to manage your feelings as well." He chuckled as he thought about watching her sleep that morning, "Not that they get one bit less fucking intense mind you. You just learn to think before you speak or act. To temper emotions with logic a bit."

"When? When do you fucking learn this, old man?" Bjorn's hands fisted into tight balls as he spoke. "How? How the fuck do you stop being jealous of your own gods be damned brothers?"

He laughed then, "That you never do. Even when they are fucking dead." He sighed and looked at his son, but it was his brother he saw in the man just then. "Our way of life is not easy. None of it. The sea. Marriage. Hell, even the Holding, son. Do you know what they all have in common?"

Bjorn shook his head. "They are all fucking hard. Life is a bitch." Olaf chuckled, "Honestly, I think it is for everyone. Ours may be a different kind is all."

He held the younger man's gaze, "But look around you, son. Look at that boat. Look at this land. Think about her...your mother. The other part of that truth is that it is damned beautiful too. As hard as it fucking is, trust this old man, who has seen and lived through more fucking pain than I hope any of you ever will. It is all worth it."

He looked so much like his father when he stared off at the water. But he was all his mother's son when his voice cracked, "I love her, you know."

"And you want her...all to yourself, don't you?"

The tears that swam in the younger man's eyes then reminded him of the only one time that he had seen them in the man's fathers. The day this man had been born. The day they almost lost her forever. "Yeah, I do. Is that wrong?"

Olaf laughed, "No, son, no, it is not wrong. It is natural. But let me challenge you a bit...women are complex. Much more complicated than we men. I heard someone once say that men only needed three things to be happy. Feed us. Fuck us. And leave us the fuck alone."

Bjorn laughed, "Yeah, I saw the same damned thing on my friends feed once. Although I am not too sure about that last one when it comes to her."

Olaf nodded, "Agree with you there, son. But the point I am trying to make is that sometimes what they need is more than just one man can provide. As much as I love having your mother all to myself. As much as I fucking hate admitting this. There are times when I wish I could turn to your father to be more firm with her. To Andreas to make her smile. And Lars...he could make her laugh even when she was mad." 

"Now...now I have to try my damnedest to be all those things to her. Not only is it hard, but I know that more often than not I fail. It is only as I struggle to be all that she needs me to be that I realize just how blessed we all were to share this bond. Cause trust the old man loving a strong woman will fucking test you to your core. And having your brothers there to share that burden...and that joy? It isn't easy...but like the sea, like this land...like our women...it is worth it. It can be beautiful."

He chuckled, "Once you get a few black eyes, broken ribs and busted knuckles out of the way at least. I was going to put my money on that being you and my son. But the way your big brother acted at breakfast this morning, I have changed my mind. I am just not sure which of you two are going after him first."

Bjorn chuckled, "He keep treating her like nothing more than his pride breeding mare, and it might be both of us."

Olaf nodded his head, "Just remember that as much as you may look like your father...that one acts like him. And yes, he and Andreas went at it more than once over that very thing. So did he and I. But if you ever doubt how he felt about your mother, go have a look at that greenhouse. He built that whole damned thing himself. Every plank. Every nail. Every piece of glass. He cut and fit himself. And we all tried to get him to let us help. But he wouldn't."

"And never once do I remember a trip when he did not bring her back a book and some damned flower. Not even if we were gone just a day or two. Some men, son, just don't find it as easy to say or even admit what they feel. But that don't mean they don't feel it just as much as you do." 

He placed his hand on the bigger man's shoulder and smiled. "So before you go judging your brother, before you count him out...think about your father as he lay dying on that boat. Remember how he battled for three fucking days to stay alive as we fought to get back here. And remember too the tears in your mother's eyes when she held him as he breathed his last...in her arms. It wasn't a fucking hospital your father wanted, it was her."

Bjorn frowned, "Trust me, I remember."

He nodded, "Well, your mother should be back soon. You seem to have things under control. So I will leave you to it now." 

'And have a word with your mother about spreading a bit of the truth beyond just the two of us,' he thought as he stood to go.

But a hand on his shoulder stopped him, "Thanks. Thank you," Bjorn stopped and frowned.

"Papa is fine, son. I don't think your father would mind. Or your brother. I am pleased to think of you all as my sons now," he offered.

Bjorn nodded, "Thank you, Papa." Though Olaf could tell the words were not easy for him. Then again as he had told him...life was not easy. 

And what he had to say to his woman now sure as hell would not be. But one thing he knew, this was something he could not and would not order her to do. It was her secret...to reveal in her time. He just hoped it would be another step closer to her healing. A healing that was almost thirty years too late. He steeled himself for another battle as he headed back to the main house, leaving Bjorn to his work...and his battles. 

***

Kirsty laughed as Monika squealed. Mikael was pushing her in the basket swing. She could not stop herself from smiling at the way his daughter could so easily strip away this man's walls. Her throat tightened at how hard he tried. Tried to reach her. Tried to be anticipate anything she needed. Tried to be a good father. It was a totally new side of her 'bad boy.' One she found herself getting lost in. 

"It is the only time my son is ever the man I remember," said the feminine voice behind her. 

She turned and smiled at Petrine. The woman looked tense even as she forced a smile. "Leave her with her father for a while and walk with me, child. Time for that story I promised you earlier."

Kirsty saw those shadows again. The lines around the woman's mouth were tight and the ones in her forehead deeper set. Even then she was stunningly beautiful. She sighed as she shook her head, "If it upsets you, we can talk some other time. You really don't have to do this, if you don't want."




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 07



The woman sighed and she could see tears beginning to gather, "No, my dear. It is not a matter of what I want, but what you need. What you need to hear. That is what matters most now."

That forced smile made Kirsty want to argue some more, but the woman just turned and waved to Mikael. "I'm borrowing her for a bit," she yelled with finality.

Then she turned and wrapped her arm about Kirsty's waist and drew her towards the greenhouse in silence. It was a short walk, less than a minute. But once they were there, the woman paused. Her hands ran along the wooden frame of the doorway. Kirsty would have sworn it was almost as if the woman were caressing a lover. 

And when she finally did turn back to face her, those green eyes swam in tears. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Can you believe it is almost as old as Bjorn? But he built it to last." She shook her head as she turned the handle and held open the door, "Join me for a cup tea, please."

Kirsty nodded her head and stepped inside the doorway. And into another world. It was warmer. Much warmer. Sweltering almost. Which was surprising given how late in the autumn it was, how cold it was outside. But in here it was spring, almost summer. And it smelled of it too. The exotic blend of flowers and herbs almost made her head swim they were so intoxicating. 

She paused just inside the doorway as the older woman came and held out her hand, "Give me your coat, sweetie. You will never need it in here. No matter how cold it gets out there, it will always warm in here. Freezing cold on the outside and warm inside, just like the man, who built it," her voice cracked and Kirsty saw her brush a couple of tears away with the back of her hand as she took her coat. 

She hung it on a hook by the door, took off her own and placed it on another above it. She motioned towards the far back corner where a wicker chair, loveseat and table sat. Kirsty nodded and silently took a seat on the chair. The woman did not join her immediately but busied herself in the other corner where a small refrigerator and kettle were. 

Kirsty looked around as Petrine made tea. The place was big, bigger than it looked. Bigger even than her bedroom. It was full too. Brimming with tables and shelves. More plants that she had ever seen except at a garden center. There was a small tree in one corner that looked like it still had a couple of oranges hanging from its branches. Of course, there were other edible plants too. Tomatoes, peppers and strawberries. A whole shelf of them in fact in various stages of development. 

"Fresh strawberries...all year round," the woman wore a bitter-sweet smile as she held out a steaming cup. Kirsty took with a smile of thanks. "It is herbal, my own blend, not your English milk stuff. I hope you don't mind. I will remember to bring some down from the house for you," she smiled as she moved a laptop over and curled up on the love seat.

Kirsty sipped her tea. It was a delicious. Mint and chamomile she recognized but there were other herbs as well that she could place place. The woman sipped hers as well. Kirsty did not disturb her as she looked around this place, lost in her memories and thoughts it seemed. The silence might have made some people uncomfortable, but Kirsty waited. Though she did not know for what...she waited. 

It truly was beautiful. Quiet. Warm. Petrine was right, she could not feel so much as even the tiniest draft. So many flowers too. The shelves on the other wall contained roses, lilies, tulips and so many others; some she recognized, but many she did not. She smiled as she saw the tiny white flowers that he had passed to her that first day, barely moments after he had drawn her through that turnstile. 

"White lace, Orlaya grandiflora," Petrine smiled at her as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped. "He picked them himself you know," she shook her head. "My eldest son may carry Lars's name, but in most ways he is more like the father, who raised him than the one whose name he bears."

Kirsty swallowed a sip of her tea. It was the opening she had been looking for to ask the question that had been burning in her mind. But did she have the courage?

The warm chuckle made her look up as she pondered it, "Go ahead. Ask. Better yet, I'll save you the embarrassment and just answer. I don't. We don't. Not for certain anyway." The older woman took a slow sip of her own tea, perhaps allowing that titbit to sink in. 

Kirsty frowned, "But? Then how? Why?" she stammered even though she knew she made no sense.

Petrine laughed, the first genuine one that she had heard from the woman that day. It broke the tension. "Sometimes it is easy. You can see how much like his father Mikael looks. And one day I will pull out my photo album. There are not many pictures mind you...mostly when I would go with them on a trip. Our kind of family vacations...holidays. You will see then that Bjorn is the spitting image of his father."

She shook her head and that wistful look was back. She took another drink, but this time Kirsty thought it was perhaps to fortify herself for whatever was to come. "Stig. It is his story I need to tell you now, sweetheart. His...mine...and his sons...the one of his body and the other of his heart."

She paused for a long moment. Kirsty could see the tears gathering, she thought about stopping the woman, trying once more to persuade her that this was not necessary. But something told her it was...for both of them.

"You are in love with my baby already." It was not a question. "I'm not surprised. Between his daddy's drop dead good looks and my heart, like I said, some are easy to love. And I know that he loves you just as much," she shrugged, "Maybe even more. But I did not come here to talk about easy roads."

She raised the cup once more and smiled around its brim, "I see too that you have found a bit of common ground with Mikael." The smile she gave her then was genuine, "And I want to thank you for the miracles you are already working with my little hellion. But I knew you would, knew you could not resist her any more than the rest of us can."

She sighed heavily, "Just remember as wonderful a friend and father as he is, that man bears scars. But that is not my story to tell. I have faith that one day...maybe not right away, but one day, he will tell it to you himself. Be patient with him. And every now and then push his buttons," she giggled. "That one not only looks like his father, he acts like the man too. And trust me two things I know...you will never find a more loyal friend."

She winked and shifted on the soft floral cushions of the love seat just a bit, "And just when they get comfortable, think they have you, think they know it all, that is when you push their buttons." The woman's giggles reminded her more of Roz, her ribald friend from work, than a mother just then, "Just make damned sure you are ready for the consequences."

Her face changed once more. Darkened as she spoke again, "But it is my eldest that I want to talk to you. You asked earlier how I know, how any of us do. The honest truth is with that one...I honestly do not know. I am never sure." When she brought the cup to her lips this time, Kirsty could see that her knuckles were almost white. 

"I was seven months pregnant with him when..." Her voice cracked and she finally lost the battle to hold back the tears. "When Lars was...when Njörður, the Norse god of the sea, wind, fish, and wealth claimed his price."

"It was the first time I truly understood how tough this life is. It was especially hard as he was the youngest. The baby."

The woman smiled and looked off again as she spoke, "Oh, that man. He was even more of a jokester than Bjorn. He could make me laugh no fucking matter how angry I was. And they used that too. He was the one they always sent to calm me down when I started breaking dishes." 

Kirsty felt hot tears stinging her own eyes. She could hear the love in the woman's voice as she spoke of the man. And Kirsty could not even imagine what it would feel like...did not want to even think about it. Especially him, her jokester. Silence reigned once more as the women drank tea. One lost in the past, the other staring into the gaping uncertainty of the future. 

"So when Sven was born...well, I am never completely sure if we all did not just see what we wanted to, more than what was there." Petrine wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Damn it, I should have been smart enough to bring Kleenex for this one," she chuckled. 

"As the eldest, it was Stig though who felt it was his responsibility to take Sven under his wings. They are so fucking much alike in that way too. Always taking on more responsibility than it is theirs to bear alone."

She smiled as she continued, "Sometimes when I look at Sven...just certain expressions. I see Stig in him as much as I do Bjorn." She burst out laughing then, "Although I did my damnedest to make sure my first child was not his."

"Oh, yes, I see the idea has occurred to you too. I thought it might have. Despite what I told you that first day, yes, yes, I played favorites. Back then honestly it was mostly Lars that I called to my bed...as often as I could anyway. Maybe that is the other reason we all just assumed that Sven is his son," she shrugged.

"You see I was still angry with Andreas. He was the bait...just as Sven was with you," she chuckled again. "Someone really needs to teach you a poker face. Although maybe not until you have played a round or two of strip poker with my sons."

Kirsty felt her face burn as she sputtered tea out through her nose, "Oh please! Not you too. At least, let there be frankness between us. You have three husbands. I had four. If we were one of those frigid bitches that didn't enjoy sex, we would be in a whole world of hurt." Petrine joined her in tea spewing laughter then. "Quite literally actually."

When they finally managed to stop laughing there were tears of a different kind in their eyes. Kirsty looked at her, "I am sorry. It is just that...well," she stammered and fumbled until she finally managed to force the words out. "It is just that I was never close to my own mother. We never really talked about..."

"Sex, dear. Nasty, raw, wild and sometimes oh-so fucking sweet sex. It is all right, most people don't. Hell, my sons like burying not just their heads but their whole fucking body in the sand when it comes to Mama and it." She shook her head and giggled like a teen once more, "If they only knew. But back to you...and your sex life."

"Yes, I was the one to convince Bjorn not to use his photo on the website. The boyee..." The owman stuttered over the word, then paused and began again. "My youngest son would have attracted way too much attention and not necessarily the right kind either."

"And I would bet my bottom dollar...if I can still find one laying around here somewhere...that if it had been his picture on that profile, you would not have responded back, would you?" Petrine studied until Kirsty shifted uncomfortably on the chair. 

It was difficult to admit as she blushed, bit her bottom lip and nodded, "Probably not."

"I thought as much. And I admit...that was the tiniest bit of it with his father too. But try this one for size, sweetheart, Bjorn's too good looks with Sven's cold devil may care attitude. Intimidating? Hell, yeah. I thought Stig was the most arrogant, self-centered, egotistical, misogynistic...am I missing any here?" she laughed. 

"As for Olaf, that man always knew me too well. Got under my skin. So next to Lars's easy-going..."

"Happy," Kirsty blushed.

Petrine raised her eyebrows, "Oh do tell?"

"I nicknamed them all. That first night in the cabin. Over dinner. I gave them all nicknames," she admitted shyly.

The woman frowned, "Of course, Happy could only be Bjorn. But now you have me really curious. What is Mikael's?"

"Grumpy," the color spread from her cheeks down her neck into her jumper.

Petrine nodded her head and then frowned, "Doc, Sneezy, Bashful, oh what are the others' names? For the life of me, I cannot figure out who Sven might be."

"Dopey and Sleepy...and no, none of them fit," Kirsty wrung her hands in her lap. "Atlas...Sven's is Atlas."

She smiled and nodded, "Yes, yes, he is. Just like Stig was. You understand then...as the eldest, they always felt as if it is all on them. As if the whole damned business, this place, the family, sometimes I think the whole fucking world would fall apart without them. But trust me, it doesn't. I learned that the hard way. Which brings me back to the story."

"Like I said, I played favorites. Lars...then Olaf. Andreas, of course, once Sven was born and I had come to terms with my life here enough to forgive the man. You know why he...they...choose me? Back in the days before the Internet made things so much easier." Kirsty shook her head.

"Because no one would miss me." This laugh was darker. "I was a hippie, a child of the sixties. My parents raised me on a commune...free love and everything. Sometimes I was not even sure who my mother and father were since everyone just sort of claimed all the children as their own. That was the good part. Sometimes I think..."

She breathed deeply and smiled back at Kirsty, "Sometimes I think old women ramble...will do anything to avoid the real truth. The story I need to tell you. To make a very long story short, when the commune closed in the early seventies, my parents went their separate ways. My mother needed her drugs more than she did a troublesome teenage girl. Social services sent me to live with my grandparents on their farm in East Texas."

"I was in my first year of college when a fire destroyed the farm and killed them both." She paused and brought the cup to her lips although Kirsty guessed it was as empty as her own by then. "I had nothing then. Nothing and no one. Nowhere to call home." 

"I sold the land to the first person that offered to buy it. I went to the post office and got my first passport. Then with the money from selling the land, I bought a ticket...one-way...to your homeland. And for two years, I wandered Europe. England, France, Spain, Italy, Germany. I made Amsterdam when I met Andreas." Once more Kirsty saw that wistful and wondered about the rest of this woman's story. The things she was not saying.

"I got so drunk one night that I did what I never had. I told him the whole story. The poor orphan wondering the world looking for home. He decided then that this was to be my home. That he and his brothers were to be my family."

The tears were streaming down her cheeks as she spoke, "And as much as I despised that man for that those first couple of years, I can never thank him enough. The rest of this story gets kind of rough, sweetheart. Hard for you to hear. And even harder for me to tell you. But one thing I want to make sure I say now...in case I forget. Never...no matter the pain...never have I regretted that decision. And I pray you never do yours either."

Kirsty had no idea what was to come...what could possibly be more difficult than this woman's tale so far. And she was not sure she wanted to know...but something once more told her that she needed to.

***

Rachel looked across at the younger woman. She tried her damnedest to force a smile, but knew that she failed miserably. "Let me get us another cup of tea. For the life of me, I wish I knew where that old man hides the vodka. We could both use some right about now," she joked as she stood and took Kirsty's cup.

Her hands trembled and it had absolutely nothing to do with the occasional stiffness in her joints first thing in the morning. She could tell through the opaque glass roof that the sun was already beginning to fall in the sky. She did not worry about dinner. She was certain that Olaf would see to that. 

She chuckled lightly at all the crazy ideas that young woman had back then about being their slave, forced to cook, clean and wait upon four men...to serve their every need. Just like Snow White and her seven dwarves, she thought as she cherished the confidence that the younger woman had shared. She hoped there would be more...many more. 

Oh to be that young woman again. To love them as she should have. And not allowed such silly notions to cloud her thinking. Because the truth she had soon learned was they more than pulled their own weight around the house...when they were there. Chores were always shared...and if anyone waited on, serviced anyone, it was them serving her. She smiled, although some of their needs were definitely worth serving.

The kettle began to hum and she poured the tea. She had avoided the crux of this matter for too long. The story would get no easier. She lifted the cups and carried them back to where her new daughter sat and she was already beginning to think of her as that. She offered Kirsty one with that same weak smile before she settled herself back on her writing settee with the other.

"Yes, I did what I warned you not to. I played favorites. As much as I could get away with anyway. But overtime, even Stig and I came to an uneasy truce. Not completely unlike what you have with Mikael. I grew up. I saw past the arrogance to the weight of all those responsibilities. In the end, I stopped play mind games. So when Mikael was older and I decided I want another baby, I made sure that..."

Petrine looked at her and smiled, "Let's just say I made absolutely sure that the odds were even. That any of the three of my husbands might be Bjorn's father." 

Rachel wanted to laugh at the way her new daughter's face turned an almost perfect shade of pink then. She was very tempted to confirm the girl's thoughts, but she had delayed this story long enough. She would allay some of the woman's concerns about those things another day. 

"What I am about to tell you now, my youngest son does not know. When he was a child, we thought it would be too much of a burden. So we all agreed not to tell him. I am hoping you will keep that confidence." She sighed as she continued, "But I will not ask you to lie to him either. Just please if you do feel you must tell him, please consult us." 

Kirsty frowned for a long moment, but nodded her head at last. "When Bjorn was born..." She felt the knot tightening in her throat. Almost thirty years and she still could not say the words? She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through the pain. 

Pain that sometimes still felt like it was sucking her under, that she was drowning as surely as Lars had when he was swept away in that storm. The two suddenly melded together and she drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and began to rock back and forth. 

"Petrine, are you all right? We don't have to talk about it if it upsets you this much," the tender voice broke through the waves like a lifeline. 

"No, Kirsty, maybe it is long past time I did." She forced her eyes open but still had trouble focusing on the younger woman's face. She wiped the tears away as she exhaled and plunged into those icy waters of her own freewill this time. "I hemorrhaged. Bled out. I don't remember much of what happened after they showed me his son. Just the look on the midwife's face and how fucking white Stig's got."

Rachel knew that if she closed her eyes she could see his face again, maybe even hear those words. "Almost fifteen years I had been their wife then. Two sons...losing Lars...and never once had that man shown me any real emotion." She chuckled, "Well, unless you count lust."

She recognized the empathy in her daughter's eyes and smiled, "And we both know that is not enough, that we want and need so much more. Even though, I had that more with Andreas and with Olaf. Some part of me always needed to break through his icy waters too. To touch more than simply the man's body. I know you understand that feeling...know it with both Mikael and Sven." Kirsty only nodded her head and blushed. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 07



"Of course, they raced me to the city. Left the baby and the boys with Andreas and took the boat because it would be faster. Like I said, I remember almost nothing." She sighed and forced the hardest part out, "Except his voice through the too bright light. 'You cannot do this, Rachel. You cannot make me love you and then die on me'."

She lost the battle then with her tears and she no longer gave a damn. No longer had the energy or even the will to hold them back. She could almost hear his voice. But almost was not good enough. It never had been. 

Her own voice was weak and cracked, "When I woke up. When he told me, that the only way to save my life had been a hysterectomy. I needed him to take me in his arms and tell me again. Needed to know it was not all just some dream that my delirious mind had made up. But that mask was firmly back in place." She shook her head at the flood of memories, "Maybe even worse than before."

"It is easy to see it all now. How he blamed himself. It was his son that I had almost died to give birth to. And it was he who made that final decision, if you call it that. He, who had signed the papers giving the doctors permission anyway." Still she avoided the word, she could not even bring herself to think it one more time, let alone say it again. 

"But then? I was too lost. Too lost in my own fucking pain to see any of theirs. Andreas, my first love. We would never have the little girl he promised me to go with the sons. He started drinking." She could not even look at the younger woman then. As she admitted her own failures. She shivered as she felt the cold blast of the past caress her skin.

"And Stig? He hid himself as he always had. As he taught Sven to do...in work. I barely saw him. When they were not at sea, he was always busy. Always doing something. And I was no better. I rarely left my bedroom. I would not let Bjorn out of my sight for a moment. I clung to Mikael too even though he was already begging to join his fathers at sea. I refused...and Stig backed me."

She shook her head and dried her eyes with the back of her hand even though she knew that the tears would be back. "The only one I had was Olaf. And honestly, I am not sure how he stood to be around me then. All I did was cry..."

"You read and sewed too, my love," she laughed as she looked up and saw him standing by the door. 

She held out her hand, "Come," she beckoned. "Why am I still surprised?" she shook her head as she shifted and made room for him on the loveseat next to her. 

He wrapped her in his strong arms and drew her back into the safety that had been her rock for so damned long. A rock she hoped would be there for much longer. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head as his thumbs brushed away her tears. He just smiled and said, "Am I not always here when you need me, Rachel?"

***

Kirsty watched them. This was something she had never seen. Something so intimate, more so than even sex in some ways. She tried to even imagine the great and mighty Doctor Nancy Dickens allowing her father to comfort her like this. But her mother would have pushed him away, pushed anyone away. Then again she would never allow herself to cry, had admonished Kirsty not to. Tears were weakness. So why did they look like beauty and strength when this woman cried? 

"I can go if you two want to be alone...to talk of course," she blushed.

Petrine shook her head as she looked from the man, who as Petrine said looked so much like Mikael it was obvious who his father was. To the woman, his wife that he cradled like his life depended upon it. She shook her head as she spoke once more, "No, I need to finish this story and you need to hear it."

The man laced his fingers through his wife's and drew her closer against him as he kissed away fresh tears, "You are right, my love. You need to tell it. At long last." The woman beamed as she looked up at him. The years fell away. Kirsty could see them as they must have been then. She heard this woman's words again...'never find a more loyal friend.'

She thought of others too. Petrine was right. She did not want the closeness she felt only with Bjorn. She wanted it with Mikael as well. Maybe she even wanted it with Sven, she was not sure. The question was...did she have the kind of strength that she saw in this woman to fight for it? Real strength...that did not push people away as her mother always did. Strength that saw through walls to the pain beneath. 

Petrine looked up at her with a half smiled. She was glad the man had joined them. She could feel the woman's pain, even though she could not even begin to imagine what it must have felt like. Losing a husband you loved...and then your ability to bear children. 

Even though this woman had three amazing sons, she had heard the way her voice cracked when she spoke of daughters. She thought of him...their conversation this morning. How would she... She could not even finish the thought. Let alone face all this woman had.

But the story was not over it seemed as Petrine began to speak again, "Bjorn's first birthday. I decided that enough was enough. All my tears would never give me that baby girl I had wanted. They were only robbing me of my sons." The older woman turned and smiled at him, "Stealing precious time from the men I loved."

She sighed, "And so Petrine was born."

Olaf nodded as he brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles as they shared the memory. 

"After his birthday party, Stig told me that he had something he wanted to show me. Mind you, I had not been out of the house in months, I barely left my room back then. So even a walk in the forest and fields seemed daunting. But the man had barely spoken to me in so long. I knew I had to try, meet him half way."

She waved her hand, "He brought me here. Showed me this place for the first time." She smiled and got that far away look again. Kirsty might not know what the woman was remembering, but she felt it to her core. 

"My brother built this place all on his own. Andreas and I begged and pleaded with him to let us help. Even Sven wanted to. All of us...we just wanted to find a way, something, that would reach through Rachel's pain. But he refused. Said it was something he needed to do on his own." Olaf kissed the woman's neck softly, "I always thought it was some sort of penance."

Petrine shook her head and Kirsty noticed that the tears were back. "He only ever said those words to me once more. The day he dead," the way that the man's arms tightened about his wife said all that Kirsty needed to know. 

"And stubborn, foolish me...even though I knew. Even though I finally saw through it all to the man inside, I thought...I'd be damned if I was going to say them to him, if he would not say them to me. Not until that day. Only once...once in over thirty years together did I ever tell Stig how I felt about him." The tears came faster now, so fast that the woman's body shook. "And I will never know if he even heard them."

"Shhh, Rachel, it's all right. You know he did. Here...Valhalla...or whatever the hell waits for us all out there. My brother knew how you felt. He heard. You know he did," he buried his face in his wife's hair but Kirsty would have sworn she saw tears in the steely grey eyes that were identical to his son's. 

She felt like an intruder. She wanted to flee. To run. But where. That bedroom always did seem too big, too overpowering, and too dark. And she had not been here long enough to find her place...her field, her greenhouse. Him...but then she remembered. He knew none of this. How could she explain without revealing a secret that was not hers to share?

Petrine looked up at her and tried her best to smile. "I know how overwhelming all this must feel to you right now. On top of everything else. I did not mean to tell you. Not yet anyway. But I guess...I guess I just want you to understand. To be wiser, kinder, stronger than I was. Than I am. I needed you to understand why I said...they all need you. Even the ones that it is not easy to love."

The woman gripped the arms about her tightly, "We are here for you. For all of you. But this is your struggle...to find your way. Your path. And we cannot walk it. We can only share what we have learned on ours. Don't waste a moment, sweetie. I know you feel, think that there is always time. But I promise you it goes so much quicker than you realize."

She smiled as much as she could through the tears, "Little boys become men. Men that you love become nothing more than memories. Your body betrays you. And all you have left in the end are those memories...and regret. Be smarter than I was...make damned sure you have more memories to keep you warm than you have cold regrets."

Kirsty fought the knot in her throat as she nodded her head. "I'll try," were the only words she could find then. She promised as she rose from the chair. No matter what the woman said, she could never imagine herself being as strong as she was. As beautiful inside and out. But she would try. For this woman...for her sons...all of them, she swore. "I will try, Petrine."

The woman, dare she think it...her new mother, shook her head and smiled as she turned to her husband, "Call me Rachel. It has been a long time, but I think you, my sweet daughter, should call me Rachel too."

Kirsty frowned at the unspoken communication she saw between the couple. Once more she felt like that interloper, witnessing something too intimate for human eyes. And this time, she stood, "Thank you. I know how hard that must have been, Petr...Rachel. But thank you. I promise I will do my best."

"That is all any of us can do," said the man as he held his wife. 

She nodded and turned towards the door. She was still so caught up in it all that she completely forgot her coat hanging by the door. Until she was about ten feet from the door. A biting wind cut through her jumper and she turned. She thought about going back in there for her coat as she brought her hands up and blew on them to fight back at least a bit of the cold. 

Then something warm draped about her shoulders. And she turned to stare up into his face. Not his. Not even Mikael's with whom she was beginning to build some common ground. But his. Sven's. The one man she wanted to avoid. Until she remembered her promise...'I'll try.' She just had not expected to be confronted with the opportunity so soon.

***

Damn his mother. Damn her to Helveti just then. He saw those blue pools filled with tears and he knew. Just knew. "She told you, didn't she?"

His wife could only nod. "Damn her, she should have waited. Given you time to get used to life here." Not that it surprised him, he had been blessed with one of his mother's little advice sessions all the way into town and back. 

Even after all the years, the woman was still too much of an idealist. She always did want to see things her way. To ignore the harsh realities of life. This life in particular. But she really did have no right to burden this woman, their wife with those same expectations. He brushed a tear away. 

"Come with me," he commanded as he took her by the elbow. She shook her head and went to pull away. But she froze when he said, "He cannot see you like this. Remember he does not know. Damn, the woman for that too. She should have told him long ago. One of us should have."

She nodded silently and fell into step with him as he led her back towards the boat. "Are you going to be the one to tell him? Tell him that his birth almost killed our mother?" He knew he was being harsh. Too harsh with her. And it was not her that he was angry with. 

His mother. His uncle. The man that had been as much a father to him as he was to his own son. Hell, himself most of all. One of them should have been strong enough to end this lie long ago. To tell his brother the truth. But only once had he come close. The night Bjorn came of age. They had gotten him drunk. Hell, they had planned to get him laid. But that had not worked out so well. 

He knew then that his mother had poisoned his brother's mind with her idealistic bullshit. That she had conveniently shared with him only those bits of the story that suited her. That she had not told him of the years of fighting before he was born. Of the number of times that they had fought, come to blows over her. 

She had not told him, because then she would have needed to explain why all that changed. Why her husbands suddenly went from her Doms...to her slaves. Not that she meant to, not that they meant to. Hell, even he had tried all that a fucking thirteen year old boy knew to reach his mother. Even Mikael who was barely six at the time had. 

But she was not going to dump this shit on his wife's shoulders...guilt her as she had all of them. Enough was enough. 

"Where are we going?" she finally asked. Her voice little more than a broken whisper. 

"The boat. Mikael has already taken Monika into the house. Bjorn went with them while I came to find you and my mother." He stopped, his hands gripped both of her elbows tightly. He wanted to shake her, make her see. "He cannot see you like this. He would not stop until he got the whole story out of you. And it is not your place to be the one to tell him."

He watched the play of emotions across her face as she considered his words. Then she nodded, "You're right, of course."

He laughed, "You actually admit that?"

She giggled a bit and half looked up at him, "I am not stupid."

He brushed one of the tears from the corner of her eye, "No, I never thought you were. Will you come with me to the boat then? Spend tonight with me there?"

She chuckled, "I thought that was my choice...who I called to my bed."

He smiled at her, "Oh yes, but you see we are not spending the night in your bed. We are spending it in mine and I have a surprise for you there."

***

Kirsty studied him for a long moment. Petrine...Rachel was right. Those words sounded incredibly hallow after the ones that his 'baby' brother had shared with her. But the woman was right about something else too...they were as close as this man could come to admitting that he needed or even wanted her. 

And the rest was her choice. Hers alone to make. She could as the woman said...play favorites. Turn away this tiny glimmer, slam the door closed on him. Maybe even on herself, on any chance she had of reaching the man she had first been so powerfully attracted to. The one that if she were being honest she still was. 

Or she could...take a tiny step forward of her own. Press her body against his as she stared up into those deep blue eyes and whisper, "I choose you." She could even stand upon her tiptoes and press a soft kiss to those lips that she remembered staring at in the café as they chatted. Remembered wondering what they would taste like. The sea, man and sex...she had discovered.

That choice was surprisingly easy actually.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 08



Kirsty looked around the cabin where she had been their 'prisoner.' No, even captive seemed a bit strong after...him. Bjorn. She bit her lower lip and smiled secretively remembering that she had seduced him that first time. His first time. 

But there had been other firsts here too. When Mikael had... She blushed just at the thought of his darker head buried between her thighs. But he had teased and tormented her with his mouth. Pushed her to the very edge of her release and then pulled back leaving her hanging. Until he had not drawn back and sent her body flying over the very edge of the universe with his mouth and fingers.

Of course, the very first had been him. Here that very first day after their coffee. "Pleasant memories, Kirsten?" that deep, accented voice asked as he took his coat from about her shoulders. At least this time he was not demanding she get naked. Yet. 

She smiled up at him and nodded. His hands caressed slowly up and down her arms for just a moment. For a heartbeat, she almost believed he would say something, but then he merely turned his back and walked to the toy box. When he came back, he held a small brown box, the kind that online company used. Her blush deepened as she remembered a similar one that her flat mate had delivered to her room one evening...a gold bullet vibrator. 

"Open it," his voice always seemed like a caress. His accent was thicker than his brother like English was not as easy for him as it was for Mikael and especially Bjorn. 

Her fingers trembled as she pushed aside the flaps that had already been cut open. She was not sure what she expected, but what was there made her inhale sharply. Her eyes grew wide at what lay cushioned on the bubble wrap. 

"A full set," he said as he lifted the first and smallest from the box. He held it up and turned it slowly for her to examine. She shivered as he ran the soft almost transparent silicon down her face. "We will begin with this one tonight."

She could barely breathe. His voice sounded so far away as she listened to him speak. "Every day for a couple of hours at first, you will wear it. We will gradually increase the time a bit every day. Until that sweet virgin ass of yours can easily accept my finger buried deep inside of it while I fuck you from behind."

Her eyes flared wide at his bold words. Part of her was disgusted, frightened, even terrified. Anal had definitely not made her fetish list. But she remembered too how she had... when he... last time. He had told her then that he would 'train' her. She just had not expected this.

He picked up the last one, the largest of the three. Although it was tapered at each end, it flared in the middle. It was as thick there as... Yes, it was every bit as large as. 

His rich, deep laughter that she loved so much echoed around the small cabin. "Yes, I so love the way your pretty face shows everything you are thinking and feeling, Kirsten. Yes, by the time we reach this one. By the time you can easily accept it inside that tight little butt of yours, then you will be ready for something else."

If she had hoped he would have the good graces to leave off the dirty talk there, she was too be disappointed as he once more leaned in and ran the smooth surface of it across her cheek until it reached the corner of her mouth, "Open for me," he commanded.

Kirsty blushed as she stared up into those blue eyes. She was light headed. Perhaps from trying to breathe fast enough to keep up with the pounding of her heart. Perhaps from the very, very naughty things that this man was saying. Because as much as she was shocked by such dirty things as butt plugs and anal sex, she was also incredibly turned on. 

He ran the cool silicon across her bottom lip as he bent in and whispered, "Then you will be ready for me to fuck that sweet virgin ass, my wife. And don't deny that the idea turns you on. I can smell how worked up you are even now. And you will be even more worked up with my baby brother buried deep in that wet pussy while I push you forward on to his chest and enter your ass from behind."

Her mouth was dry. Her heart was pounding so hard inside her chest that she knew he must be able to hear it. There was no way that she could make even a sound as he pushed the thing just between her lips. Her mind was on auto-pilot as she opened them and it slipped deeper. "That's right, sweetheart. Suck it. Because you know there are three of us. While baby brother fucks that sweet cunt and I take your ass, Mikael will bury his cock in your throat."

She was not sure how she was managing to stand then. Her mind was reeling. His words painted such a realistic...such a naughty picture. Not even Raquel Graffen's book had been so blunt when describing that very act. "Are you going to tell me that you don't want that? All three of us? Taking you at once? If I put my hand between those sweet thighs right now, what would I find?"

She blushed and looked away rather than answer him, because the truth was that she could actually feel the wetness dripping down the inside of her leg. 

Then she was reeling a bit as she struggled to stand. It was only then that she realized his arm had been about her waist. Her body pressed against his the whole time he spoke of such intimacies. And now without him to keep her upright she teetered for a moment. Her knees were incredibly weak but somehow she managed to remain standing as he crossed the cabin and picked up the coat he had discarded earlier. 

"But first we have to train that sweet little ass of yours." He chuckled, "And my brothers and I need to learn to share our toy without killing one another. That may take some time, sweetheart. But it is so much fucking fun to mind fuck you with the idea." 

He slipped on the coat and came back to stand in front of her, "But, Kirsten, it will happen. One day. For tonight though, you can simply imagine it. The plug filling your tight ass as I fuck you. I might not be as good looking as baby brother...or as sweet talking. But I intend reminding you that there is something to be said for experience over youthful enthusiasm."

"I may not be able to wile away half the damned day in bed with you tomorrow morning, but I promise you I'll let you sleep in...after I spend the whole night fucking you and coming inside that equally sweet cunt. Over and over." 

He brushed his lips against the side of her face briefly as he whispered, "I will get us supper from the house. I am sure at some point during the night we will both need the break, to renew your energy." He shrugged, "And let the others know that once more I have taken you as Ægir's Captive. I am sure that is just going to thrill baby brother," he laughed sardonically. 

"But blame my beloved mother for keeping the lovers apart this night. She should have fucking known that with your honest face you could never keep the family secret from Bjorn. Don't worry though, by morning you won't remember your own fucking name. Let alone the oh-so tragic circumstance of my baby brother's birth and the demise of my father."

His hand found its way between her legs somehow. Without any preamble, two of his fingers thrust deep inside of her. Her response was instant and visceral as her body began to pulse and throb around them. She felt liquid heat explode as her juice coated them and he added a third finger. She leaned her head into his shoulder. She bit her bottom lip until she tasted cooper. Anything to keep from screaming as his fingers plunged deeper and faster inside of her cunt. 

His mouth covered hers and she released all the pent up energy as she screamed into it. By the time, those fingers stopped their assault her knees were jelly. She was pressed completely against his hard body. Against his equally hard cock that throbbed just behind the zipper of his rough jeans. 

He gave her that devil-be-damned smile as he lifted his fingers to the same lips that had kissed her. He licked her juices from his fingers, cleaned them completely as he silently held her gaze. "Delicious, although that reminds me...certain things I have not shown you..."

Kirsty could feel her face darken even more as she realized what he meant. He chuckled once more, "I see my brother, brothers?" he asked. "They have not been so remiss. Yes, well, I am sure that I shall find some way of pleasing you. But for now, there are instructions on the table. Explicit ones. Follow them. All," he used that tone which always sent the butterflies scurrying in her stomach. 

"I will be back soon. So do not waste time. Assuming of course that I do not need to fight my way back here. But do not fear, I will be back. Maybe a bit bruised and bloodied, but nothing...and no one...not even my beloved brothers are going to keep me from this night with my captive bride." Then he turned and was gone. 

It took her a couple of moments to steady herself. To slow her breathing and heart rate enough to walk the short distance to the table. The table were they had all shared dinner that first night. The table where they had explained her Fate, her destiny, her future. 

When her trembling fingers finally lifted the sheet of paper, she forced herself to read the bold masculine handwriting twice. She shook her head and looked around her blushing. The man could not be serious. She could not. But even as she thought it, pushed the bubble wrap aside to discover what else that box contained, she knew that she would. 

Partly it was her submissive nature that did not want to disappoint. Partly it was her own curiosity. She really did want to explore this...thing. Even more as she thought about the images he had planted in her mind. Yes, she was panting and almost tempted to relieve herself, even though he had just given her an incredibly intense orgasm, she wanted more. She wanted it all...all of them too. 

But partly it was him. Petrine...or Rachel was right. She wanted, almost needed, to reach this man. Her Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She needed that as much as she needed his brother's love, which he so freely gave her. As much as she wanted to chip away those walls of pain that Mikael hid behind. Yes, she wanted them all. 

Tonight though was his. His alone. And as hard as this list was, it was as good a place as any to begin this fight. The battle to win more than just his lust...but his heart too.

***

Sven looked around the living area. His family. His crazy, wonderful fucked-up family. His responsibility, he sighed. But right now, she was his first concern, his biggest responsibility. 

Mikael was once more trying to engage with his daughter, using that sign stuff she was teaching them. He smiled, baby brother had been right about the Russian girl, having a child did not make you a mother. Then again they should have learned that lesson from this little girl's mother. 

Her on the other hand? She had just stepped in and already as subtle as they were, he could see the differences in his niece. She was going to make one hell of a mother. To his son. He breathed deeply. Now was not the time to dwell on those thoughts though. 

His uncle frowned as he turned from where he and his mother were serving dinner in the kitchen. "We were wondering where you had gotten off to."

But it was his youngest brother, who looked up from the table at him, as he demanded, "Where is she? You went to find her and mother. So where the fuck is my wife?"

"Your wife?" Sven felt the tension inside of him rise at Bjorn's words. "Decided already that sharing ain't as much fun as you thought. Well too fuc...," he looked across the room at his niece and stopped himself even as his hands fisted at his side. "Too bad, baby brother. This was your idea. You, you and Mama," he added as he turned shaking his head in the direction of the woman who at that moment he was madder at than he could ever remember. 

"You and Mama who drug me and Mikael into this. Who convinced us that the old way was best. But now that you had a taste of..." he cursed under his breath. He was not about to say this in front of his niece. She might not speak, but that did not mean she could not hear. Did not understand a far sight more than they realized. This was no place for this conversation. No, he had come here for one purpose, well, two actually. 

He turned away from his brother and joined his mother and uncle in the kitchen area. "Kirsty and I will be spending tonight on Ægir's Captive," he said loudly enough that his brothers could hear. "I just came to let you know so that you would not worry...and to get some food for later."

He kept his back to his brothers as he searched in the cupboards for containers. He lowered his voice so that only his mother could hear as he whispered, "What the hell were you thinking, woman? You know that woman cannot hide a single thought, emotion."

He found what he was looking for and crowded the woman over a bit. He felt a twinge of regret as he noticed for the first time that her eyes were swollen. It had been so many fucking years since he had seen that he had almost forgotten the knot that it always made in his stomach. He had just come to expect her strength, her stubbornness. It was an odd reminder of that other time...those dark days. 

He sighed as he shook his head, "I am keeping the lovers apart tonight, Mama. But you know as well as I do what you have to do. One look at her and he will know something has upset her. How long do you think it will take for him to get it out of her? It's not her place to tell him, you know that," he whispered. 

His mother nodded her head slowly, but before she looked down he saw the tears gathering in her eyes. He noticed her hands trembling with the bowl and ladle too. Once more he was a twelve year old boy watching as the man he thought of as his father carried her pale, motionless body to the boat. The man he had thought was invincible, but that day he had seen tears running down his weathered cheeks. That had scared him more even than his mother's lifeless form. 

It had been years since he thought about that day. About the months and months of silence that reigned in this house. Silence broken only by the sounds of her sobs. How many times had he seen them all scurry at the sound? Andreas grabbing the vodka bottle. Stig reaching for his coat and disappearing to work on that damned greenhouse. 

It was always left to Olaf and him. His uncle would go to her. While he was left to care for Mikael, to try and reassure his brother that all would be fine...when he was not even sure it would be. But that was behind them. They had put it all behind them. All rallied around her...and that little baby. They had rebuilt their lives. 

Until her. Until she came. He shook his head, "If you cannot tell him, Mama, I will," he sighed. "But it has to be done. You know that?"

But it was not his mother, who spoke but his uncle as the man wrapped his arms about his mother from behind, "We know, son. We will handle it. You just see to her tonight."

Sven nodded slowly as he finished filling the container. He could only nod with the tightness in his stomach that he had almost forgotten over the years. He tried to smile at them before turning and heading up the stairs for the other things he had come for this night. 

But Bjorn blocked his way by her door. He shook his head and prepared for the battle, though if it were to get physical it might have to wait, not that he was opposed to burying the kid's handsome face in the cold mud a time or two. Weather and night be damned. But right now he could think of better ways to burn off that kind of physical energy.

"You will not hurt her," he growled.

Sven chuckled, "You forget, baby brother, that is what we do. Who we are. And you want to forget that she likes it. Needs it."

Bjorn frowned at him, "You know that is not what I meant. She is our wife. Not one of your fucking married subs getting a little excitement behind hubby's back. And far more than just a piece of meat. A prize heifer to be bred by the bulls."

"Oh, you have it bad, baby brother," he chuckled. "Let me remind you of some truths then. The ones that I didn't say down there because of our niece."

"This is all your fucking doing. Mikael and I wanted no part of it, remember? He wanted something more traditional. And maybe that did not work out so well, but who knows if we had given him time. Time to really heal, to get over that bitch, maybe he would have tried again...for Monika's sake if nothing else is I think how you sucked his ass into this mess, isn't it?" 

Now that his anger was unleashed he was not holding back. "And me? You knew fucking good and well I had no interest in commitment. That's why I liked my women married...they rarely expected anything more than what I was willing to give." 

"I have a wife...Rán. Remember her? The cruel and greedy bitch of the sea who took my father before I was even fucking born. You think I want to bring a woman, any woman into this life? You think I wanted to subject them to the kind of pain that Mama has known?"

He gritted his teeth, "But no, you, baby brother, had to fucking point out the obvious. That without doing just that to some poor helpless woman our way of life ended with us. It was you who reminded me that like it or not, I needed sons. Sons to feed that greedy bitch. Sons to appease Njörður."

"But now that she has gotten under the little virgin's fucking skin, now that he knows what he has been truly missing all these years, well, you give new meaning to pussy whipped, baby brother. So you first go after Mikael on the boat and now me?" he shrugged as casually as he could with that much anger coursing through his body. 

"Here is a bit more of honesty for you. Do you think that you can bait us? Draw me and Mikael into this mess that I watched almost tear my uncles apart and then just change your fucking mind? Neither one of us would have objected if you wanted to marry her the 'normal' way. Hell, we would have danced at your fucking wedding."

"But if you think you are the only one that has acquired a taste for that sweet, tight cunt of hers, then you are crazy. And if you think that either Mikael or I are going to just move aside so you can have her all to yourself...go fuck yourself, baby brother. You started this...so fucking learn to live with it."

He drew in a deep cleansing breath and forced his hands to loosen from the fists that he had been clutching at his sides, "So move the fuck out of my way...in more ways than one, baby brother." 

Bjorn shook his head, "She deserves better than this, big brother."

Sven laughed, "Hell, yeah, I am not arguing that with you. The woman deserves a hell of a lot more than our fucked up asses. But you choose her. I wanted the Russian cunt. At least she would have known the score. At least..." 

He shook his head as the truth hit him...at least she would have been safe. She would not have made him feel...not like this. Not like her. 

Bjorn just shook his head, but he moved out of his way...away from the door at least. Damn him to Helveti. Damn him for choosing her. And damn her... 

But it was him who was truly damned. Damned by those blue eyes that could not hide anything from him...from them. Damned by that oh-so-fucking sweet submissive nature of hers. Damned by her tight cunt and welcoming warmth that haunted his dreams...on those nights that he was forced to share what had first been his. If he were being honest he wanted her all to himself as much as baby brother did.

He was not going to let those thoughts control him now though. Now he was wasting precious time with her on his brother. No, he had come here for one thing...rope. The lengths in the toy box on Ægir's Captive were not long enough for what he had in mind this night. But he was determined that if he could not yet bind her to him as he wanted...he would bind her sweet body in other ways.




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 08



Then he would bury himself in that tight, wet cunt over and over again...until he did at least have the son that would tie her to him...even if he never had her love the way baby brother did. So why suddenly did what he had once thought was all he wanted or needed from the woman feel like nothing more than a consolation prize?

***

Kirsty bit her lower lip as she knelt naked on the floor next to the bed. It was not the chilly night that had her shivering. Not even anticipation of what was to come her. It was as it always was...shame. Why did his carefully written instructions not include the corset again? The whole damned thing had been challenging to say the least, but this? This was the worst. Anything but naked. If she still was not comfortable being naked with Bjorn, even less so with Sven...or Mikael. 

They were all so fucking hot. Why did they have to be so damned stunning? Especially when they were naked. And her? Dumpy was the kindest way of putting it. Plus sized, freckles and ginger...how much more unattractive could she get? Whatever had they seen in her? Maybe in her dreams she could buy that Bjorn really did see her through the rose colored glasses of love. But Mikael and Sven? Why? What did any of them see in her?

And the rest of it? She had followed his instructions exactly. Showering and shaving was easy enough. But the other? She was not sure that she was ready for this. As sexy as it had been when he had played...there...the last time she had been with him. As erotic as the images he had whispered seductively into her ear then. Following those instructions had reminded her of how messy these things could be. It was something she would have never... 

But she had...for him. Although she still was more than a touch angry with him, felt used. But Petrine's story had touched her. She had made a choice. She had chosen to stay...not once but twice. And staying meant not just loving Bjorn, which as his mother said was easy. It meant learning to love Mikael and Sven too. And right not...trying was damned hard. Maybe too damned hard...

"Lovely," his deep voice caressed her mind. But damn, did she find his accent sexy. She had from that first moment she had heard it at the train station. Her body had gone into overdrive then and still was...even now. Especially now it seemed.

"Did you follow my instructions?" he asked.

She began to nod her head but almost instantly caught herself, "Yes, Sir."

"All of them?" his voice was closer...and deeper. More seductive.

She swallowed as she thought about those instructions, about what she had done. "Yes, Sir," she whispered nervously.

He chuckled, "We shall discover how well in a moment. Inspection time, my dear wife. Get on the bed."

Kirsty trembled as she rose slowly from kneeling and crawled onto the bed. But before she could get into it fully, his hand around her ankle stopped her. "Not like that," he positioned her so that she lay across the bed, her head almost against the wall and her leg dangling off the edge. Then he lifted her legs, placed her heels on the mattress, spread her legs as wide open as he could. "Scoot that cute butt lower." 

She tried, but the position was uncomfortable. Made her feel even naughtier, more vulnerable. His bare hand connecting with her inner thigh just above her pussy got her attention though. "All the way to the edge, Kirsten."

She bit her lip again and pressed her eyes even tighter shut than before, but she obeyed. Until her bottom practically hung over the edge of the bed. The way her legs pressed outwards, almost parallel meant it was not an easy position to maintain. That helped a bit. If she had to concentrate to keep her heels on the edge of the bed, if the muscles of her inner thighs strained a bit at the extreme angle, then her mind could not concentrate fully upon how fucking open she was to him at that moment. 

"Look at me."

Damn him. Why? Why could he not just allow her to hide even that tiny little bit? But maybe the more important question was...why did she not tell him 'no'? Tell him to fuck off. Of course, part of it was her own submissive nature. But she had had no problem telling other men, those who had insisted on sending her disrespectful messages repeatedly to 'fuck off.' 

But from that first challenge, she had not been able to deny him...them...anything. This included as she reluctantly opened her eyes. 

He was kneeling on the floor between her thighs. The coat, shirt and boots were gone. The only thing he wore still was his jeans and the button of those was already done. He might not have the perfect pretty-boy good looks of 'baby' brother. There might already be a touch of barely noticeable grey hairs interwoven with the blond. Hell, even the fine lines around his mouth and eyes just added a touch of sex-appeal to the man. 

Oh, he was rougher...more mature...than either Bjorn or Mikael, but he was still sexy as hell. Sexy enough to have captured her interest from that first photo. Yes, Petrine was right. She would not have been as comfortable answering that first message if it had been Bjorn's photo. His had been more than intimidating enough. As intimidating as the man himself at that moment.

"Shall we see just how well you followed my instructions then?" He smiled and the butterflies took flight in her stomach as he lowered his head. She thought that she would surely loose her precarious footing on the bed as his tongue made contact with her clitoris for the first time. But somehow she managed to keep them firmly planted on the mattress, even with her toes curling towards the floor. 

She was not just biting her lower lip, she was fucking chewing it. He was nothing like either of his brothers when it came to this. The man was a tease. A cunt tease. His light strokes and half nibbles were driving her insane. But it only had her wanting more. Whimpering and moaning. This position though did not allow her to thrust her hips up...not without risking falling right off the edge of the bed. And it was another kind of falling that she wanted from him just then. "Please," she whimpered.

"Please what, Kirsten?" he smiled up at her. His chin resting right on her shaved Venus mons. She could actually see her juices glistening on his face as he turned his head and kissed first one inner thigh and then the other. "Yes, so far, you did an excellent job. Your cunt is so fucking smooth." He licked softly just across the top of her slit before he winked, "Shall we see how well you followed the other one though?"

Kirsty could not breathe. She felt like an elephant had suddenly sat right in the middle of her chest. She was not even certain what he had in mind. Could not fathom how he might...'inspect'...that. Once more he lowered his head and licked softly at the top of her slit, but this time he did not stop there. His tongue softly outlined first one of her labia minora and then the other. It flicked only lightly at the opening of her cunt...reminded her of one of Bjorn's butterfly kisses...but on a totally other kind of lips.

Her heart stopped. Literally skipped at least two, maybe three beats, when his tongue continued its path...lower still. Her heart started slamming wildly against her breast bone though when that tongue began to swirl her other hole. "Fuck," she whispered under her breath. As impossibly naughty as this was, it was equally as intense. This was something way beyond her wildest...her absolute wildest fantasy. 

His hand covered her mound. His thumb forced her open on one side of her outer lips as his finger began to dance across her wet clitoris. That she could manage, but what his tongue was doing...there. There? She was not ready for this...but it was happening anyway. And she was... Loving it? Especially when she felt his tongue not just flicking this time but trying to actually penetrate her...the way he had said his cock would one day.

The pressure on her clit increased just the tiniest little bit. It was still more like a feather tickling her there. But even that was enough as her body tensed and arched off the bed. She whimpered as she felt one foot slip from the bed. His tongue slipped from her dark hole even as his finger slipped from her clit to just inside of her wet cunt. The result was a very unsatisfying half orgasm that left her whimpering and moaning on the edge. 

She had not even come down from that though when she felt the sharp sting of his bare hand against her outer thigh. "I would punish you for that...except I think you did a damned fine job of punishing yourself. Now turn over. Assume the position I showed you the other day. And that damned ass better be up nice and high, my sweet wife."

Kirsty kept her mouth shut, but gave him a dirty look for the punishment comment as she rolled over onto her stomach. Her knees now rested on the edge of the bed as she did her best to get 'her damned ass' as high into the air as she could. But his hands stayed her when she tried to bring her arms behind her back. "No, out in front of you this time. They will help you stay balanced better."

She nodded and whispered "Yes, Sir," as she stretched her arms in front of her. Like this, she could almost touch the wall on the other side of the bed. 

"Very good, sweetheart. And yes, you followed those instructions very well too. But as sweet as your virgin ass is I could eat it all fucking night and still not get you wet enough for what comes next." She felt the sting of the blush on her cheeks as surely as the one of his hand on her bottom. "Do. Not. Move."

She closed her eyes and took stock. This is embarrassing...intensely so. Way more than anything that she had ever done. But at the same time, she could not forget how easily he had made her come...or start to. Damn it, her body was dancing and sparking like a live wire without a ground. She needed to come so fucking badly just then. 

She could not even manage to finish that thought though as she felt something very cold sliding down her crack. "Oh," she moaned as she jumped a bit in shock at the unexpected sensation. That was only followed by another slap to her other butt cheek. 

"Be still." In this position, she could not see anything he was doing and that intensified the experience. Especially when she felt something equally wet begin to probe at her bottom. "Relax. Breathe in and out very slowly, Kirsten. Listen to the sound of my voice. Cue on it. Do you understand me?"

Her breathing was shallow and her heart pounding as her fingers began to clutch the sheet in front of her, "Yes. Yes, Sir."

"That is my good girl. We will begin simply with my finger, do you understand? Your ass is so fucking tight that I do not dare try even the smallest plug...yet," she felt her cheeks flame at his bold words. She was glad that he could not see her face just then. 

She nodded her head and whispered, "Yes, Sir." But it was barely audible. Whether he heard her or not did not matter as she felt something slowly push inside her tight ass. Her first reaction was to tense up to push out something that clearly did not belong...there.

"Breath with me, Kirsten. In...one, two, three four," his finger stilled not yet breaching her hole, just putting a gentle pressure against it. "Now, out. I want you to push back against my finger as you breathe out, sweetheart. Slowly...very, very slowly. One..." 

She willed her body to relax as his deep voice, that sexy as fuck accent that made her hot from that first hello...she focused upon those. Allowed him to almost hypnotize her.

"That's right, just like that. Two..." She gently pushed back against his hand. Allowed her body to almost fall backwards knowing he would catch her. She caught her breathe as she felt his finger slip inside her. Not deep...only an inch maybe. 

"Good girl. Just hold right there...no rush. Three..." She breathed out slowly and even though she did not push back this time, she felt his finger slip forward just the smallest fraction as her muscles relaxed once more. "Beautiful," he whispered and she felt his breath warm against the cheek of her ass.

"When I say four, I want you to exhale completely and push back as hard as you can. Can you do that for me, Kirsten?" She felt the roughness of the stubble on his cheeks against her bare bottom as she nodded. 

"Yes, Sir," she promised though she was not sure she could do what he asked. Any more than she was sure she could be the strong, loving woman that his mother asked her to be with them all. She could only try. 

"Four..." he whispered as his lips made gentle contact with the cheek of her ass. 

She breathed out, expelling all the air that she had been holding in her lungs as they played this little game. As she did, she felt herself open to him. Felt her bottom flower open like a morning glory at the first warm rays of the sun. Her weight carried her back then as his finger just slipped all of the way inside of her. 

His lips so soft against her bum pressed hard. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he growled, "So fucking perfect."

She was not sure how long they stayed like that. His face pressed against the round curve of her derrière. His finger buried completely inside of her ass. Her whole body thrumming with need and desire. "Sven," she whispered at last.

***

"Say it again, Kirsten," he growled against her warm skin as his finger began to very slowly move inside of her.

Not Sir. But his name. "Sven," she moaned softly as he gently stretched her open just a bit more. 

He would punish any other submissive for breaking protocol, coming out of role. But her? She got him painfully hard just by whispering it. Was it because in that instant he knew...knew it was him and not baby brother that she wanted? Some recognition that he was the one she needed in this moment. That he was not merely 'Sir' but a man. 

Whatever it was, it was driving him insane. He fucking needed to bury himself deep inside of her. Fuck her until she was screaming out his name. Then empty himself inside of her welcoming cunt. And that had very little to fucking do with reproduction and everything to do with how easily this woman got under his damned skin. 

He inhaled deeply, fought to regain control of his emotions as he shed the only thing between them, his jeans. He chuckled at the thought he even had them. Oh, yes, baby brother was most definitely right. She was not one of his safe married lovers sneaking around and cheating on her husband for the excitement, the kink or the sex. He had never given a damn about any of them...they came and they went without notice. They were essentially interchangeable. 

But not her, never her. He cursed under his breath as he slowly withdrew his finger, stretching her open just a bit more. He had meant to repeat the whole damned process with two fingers before attempting the plug. But she had done so much better than he had anticipated. Relaxed and opened herself to him completely. 

"Do you think you can take the plug for me now, Kirsten? I do not want to hurt you. Want you to enjoy this too," he pleaded. 

He felt her tense just a bit and his hand caressed the small of her back, moving slowly over her ass. "We can go slower. Two fingers this time. We will take this as slow as you need," even if it fucking killed him...and at that moment he felt like it might. 

"No, let's try," she whispered though he could barely hear her with her face buried in the bed. He suspected that embarrassment was getting the better of her. He had known that this particular fetish of his would. 

He moved onto the bed next to her, reached for her and although she was a bit reluctant coming into his arms she did. He brushed the still damp hair back from her face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We can stop for a bit if you need." He shook his head. What the fuck was he doing? He would have never gone so soft on any other sub. 

She shook her head against his shoulder, "No, I don't want to..." She was looking down but the deep lines in her forehead told him that she was frowning. Whatever was in that pretty little head of hers was not a pleasing thought. 

"Don't want what, Kirsten?" he probed as he brushed another kiss on her forehead. But she still did not answer, only shook her head again. "Don't want to disappoint me?" he asked. Her damned submissive nature was much deeper than the occasional role players that he usually took as his lovers. It would be too easy to push her too far, too fast. She would make no attempt to stop him. 

He chuckled as he remembered her almost feeble attempts that first day. Did she realize yet that it had been herself she fought more than him? That the fear was more of the unknown than of him, the things he did to her body. Would she come to see that one day? Even if she never loved him as she did his youngest brother. Even if they never shared the common bond that she and Mikael had found in her work with his niece. 

If he were being honest, that was more than a bit of the whole baby thing...if they shared that bond. If he gave her a child? He breathed deeply realizing once more how deeply he had gotten sucked into this whole thing. When the baby was more about binding her to him in a way that his brothers had not than the legacy that his brother had used to draw him into this fucking mess. 

She shook her head and whispered, "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be actually."

He laughed and kissed her shoulder, "Is that the polite British way of telling me you liked it, my shy little wife?"

She kept her head down but he loved the way that the pink tinge seeped down her neck all the way to the very tips of her breasts. "Maybe a little," she whispered. 

"Enough to keep going?" he asked and waited.

"Yes...please," her fingers played lightly at his chest. Traced something right over his heart actually. Could she feel how fast it beat? Faster than it did for other women. More experienced subs. More beautiful women...was there such a thing? 

"Turn around then," he whispered as he arranged her as he wanted her with her top leg bent and out from her body. His hands moved lightly over her shoulders and arms, kneading and caressing the tension from her. "Relax for me, Kirsten. Just relax," he whispered as he kissed across her shoulder.

But when he brushed her hair back rage knotted in his gut. Dark nasty purple with touches of green and yellow beginning to appear around the edges. Teeth marks. Not his either. Were they Mikael's? There would be more green and yellow, wouldn't there? His finger traced the imprint, but then that light a touch caused her to jump a bit in his arms. He noticed the small scabs forming on the four corners where the canines had broken the skin. 

Not that he objected to biting, especially her. He remembered the sweet taste of the swell of those tits that first time. What bothered him was that it was not his mark. Had Bjorn meant to? Was it a challenge? Another reminder of the fact that this woman had been his choice? Belonged to his baby brother in some way that she never would to him? 

Who was he kidding? This woman would never really be his. What the hell did he even have to offer her? Certainly not baby brother's sweet talking, intelligence or good looks. Mikael's wounded bad boy routine and perfect father routine had women lining up even when he never noticed it. Him? All he knew was the sea. And that had always been enough. Until...

This was getting him nowhere. He needed to keep it simple. This woman was his wife. This was about one thing...a son. Leave the rest of it for his brothers. They needed that shit. They could handle it. He breathed deeply as fought to reign it all back inside. Focus upon one thing...this night...this moment. It was all he had. All he might ever have with her. 

And to do that, he had to ignore his brother's marks upon her body. Which was easier said than done as he noticed the faint red lines that criss-crossed her shoulders, "Bjorn introduced you to the floggers?"




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 08



She nodded her head but said nothing more. Flogging had never been his thing...or pain for that matter. He preferred simple domination, not that there was anything simple about it. Getting into someone's mind, discovering their secret desires and deepest fears and then pushing those to the very limits. 

"Breathe deeply, Kirsten," better to get back to that...to what he did best. He reached for the bottle of lube and the plug on the floor. He rubbed the lube over the plug and then once more slowly massaged some into her tight ass...her virgin ass. 

He wanted to say fuck it with the damned plug. Fuck the training...he had never been so foolish before and he was not about to act upon the impulse but the fact that it was there was alarming. What he really wanted was to sink his cock deep inside of her, claim that too. There was time, he reminded himself. She was theirs now. Even if he might never have her love the way his brothers did, he could and would enjoy her delicious body just the same.

He moved the plug between the warm cheeks of her ass. "Breath in. Deeply. One. Two. Three. Four," he coaxed her. "Good girl. Now push back again. Just like you did with my finger. You can do it. I know you can," he coached though he could feel her tensing a bit at the foreign invader. "Breathe out very, very slowly as you push back, do you understand, Kirsten?"

"Yes, Sir," she nodded as she shifted a bit against his body. His cock throbbed once more. He promised it that it would not be much longer, not much longer at all. As soon as he had the plug inside her ass, he was taking her. Hard and fast. He needed to take the edge off. To disperse some of the energy that had been coursing inside of him. Since...since the last time he held her. 

"One," he began the count very slowly this time. His other hand ran the length of her arm until his fingers laced through hers. "This is just the beginning, Kirsten. The plug is much smaller than my cock. You know this. Two," he continued as he felt some of the tension release from her body as she opened just a bit. He gently pushed the plug forward just the tiniest little bit in answer to her body. 

"Good girl," he whispered against her shoulder. "Three," he felt the plug breech her just as his finger had. Just as one day...hopefully soon...his cock would. "Breathe out completely this time, Kirsten. Breathe out and push back as hard as you can. Four." 

Her body shivered and tensed as the plug sank completely inside her. "Very good girl," he kissed her shoulder as his fingers squeezed hers. "Now relax and breathe in deeply again. Let your body adjust. How does it feel?"

"Full. Strange pressure," she whispered.

"Pain?" he loosened his fingers and began to run his whole hand gently up and down her arm again as he buried his face between her shoulders and fought for even the semblance of control. His cock demanded that he keep that promise...bury himself so fucking deep inside of her and fuck her until they were both mindless. 

She shook her head, "Not really...just full and a touch uncomfortable."

"That is only because it is something new. Which is why the plugs and training are so important. Like I said, that plug is much smaller than my cock." His fingers pushed gently at the smooth end of the plug which curved and fit perfectly over the back opening. 

"Remember why, Kirsten? Do you remember why I want to train your ass?" As jealous as he was of his brothers, he knew exactly what to whisper into her ear as he rubbed his hard cock between her legs from behind. 

She nodded slowly and he could hear the catch in her breath at his words. "Why? Why, Kirsten? Tell me. Tell me what you want."

The silence stretched so long that he feared he had pushed her too far. He opened his mouth and was about to answer as she spoke. "So I can..." her shoulders even began to turn pink he noticed. 

"So you can... We all can..." she stammered.

His fingers brushed her chin and turned her head gently to face him. She cast her eyes to the side as she sought to avoid his gaze. "Look at me, Kirsten. Look me in the eye and tell me."

She trembled as she inhaled deeply, but her eyes met his. "So that you can fuck my ass...while Bjorn..." She paused and her eyes went very wide as the head of his cock breached her wet cunt. He slipped just inside. 

"So he can fuck your wet cunt, sweetheart?" He slid in to the hilt, filling her tightness. "Do you want that, Kirsten? Both of our cock deep inside of you? Your cunt and ass full of our hard cocks...fucking you deep...taking you..."

He felt her cunt begin to clinch and tighten around his cock. He knew she was incredibly close as he began to move slowly inside of her, "Beg me to fuck you, Kirsten. Beg me to fuck you and come inside your sweet cunt while you imagine it. Two cocks inside of you..."

***

Kirsty clutched the sheet tightly in her fingers as she thrust her hips back to meet his too slow thrust. "Fuck me," she was shocked at how deep and earthy her voice sounded. Like some demon...or succubus howling its darkness. 

But still he was too fucking controlled. His body moving slowly and smoothly within hers. She wanted him to lose control. She needed him as greedy for her as she was for him. "Stop playing games and fuck me, Sven," she demanded.

His hands shifted on her body. His fingers laced through her damp hair at the base of her neck. Pulled her head back until she was staring straight into those intense blue eyes. "You are forgetting something, our darling wife."

She shook her head. Right now she could forget her own name so that was no surprise, "What? What am I forgetting?"

He chuckled and she felt his cock twitch inside of her, "Who? You have three husbands, my sweet little wife."

Her eyes widened as his words hit her, ignited her senses. If the image of him and Bjorn both taking her at once was nirvana, his reminder of Mikael transformed it into heaven itself. She could not stop the gentle moan.

"Yes, Kirsten, just like that," he whispered as he plunged his cock fully inside of her at the same time he slipped two fingers between her open lips. He worked them in perfect time with his cock inside her depths. Of course, that only intensified the sensation of the plug in her bottom. Full. She felt so incredibly...

"Full. Stuffed. Crammed full of all three of your cocks. Is that what you want, our beautiful little wife?"

His words were all it took as she felt her whole body splinter and take flight. She cried out around his fingers as he fucked her harder and deeper. His other hand pulled her hair even harder. Turned her head so that she faced him. "Look at me. Watch me. Watch me fuck you. Watch me come inside of you. Inside your sweet fertile little cunt. Min!" 

She cried out even louder as pleasure and pain mixed once more when his teeth sank deep into her shoulder. Directly over his brother's. She saw stars from sensation overload even as her orgasm intensified. For a moment, she thought she would lose consciousness it was so fucking overpowering. Then she felt him swelling inside of her. 

Even as she tried to pull away, he forced her back into his arms, driving his cock into her to the hilt as she felt him begin to explode inside of her. She willed herself to open to him fully. She thought of his mother's words...remembered that he needed her love too. 

But it did not fully erase the sting of betrayal. As if she were cheating on the man she loved. Even if she knew their ways were different, her mind could not reconcile giving her body, taking such pleasure from his brother. 

Her body though did not seem to give a damn what her befuddled brain thought as it pulsed and convulsed around his cock that had emptied itself as he said into her unprotected cunt. And that word, it was close enough to English to leave no doubt. He was claiming her as his. Perhaps differently than his brother had...but no less real. And his teeth pressing deeper and deeper into her already bruised flesh left no doubt...he meant to do just that. 

In the end, her mind could not manage to calculate the dissonances that were tearing her apart. Her body wanted this man...every bit as much as it had from that first email...as much as it had from the moment he pulled her through that turnstile...even more than that first time in this very bed. His. His bed. 

His fingers that had been inside her mouth trailed down her chin. Her neck. Across her tits that were hard and oh so fucking sensitive. Until his hand came to rest over her lower abdomen. Even with his face buried in her shoulder, she knew exactly where his thoughts were just then...and she fought back the rage. 

At being used...once more he had used her. Turned her body against her. When would she fucking learn? He wanted only one thing from her...and as much as his mother wanted to believe otherwise...it was not her love.

She tried to pull away but his arms locked her tightly to him. "We have just begun," he promised. "I am not wasting a moment of my time with you, dear wife." He said as she felt his bare hand slap her thigh. "Do not move."

She whimpered as she felt him slip from her wet cunt. She tried closing her eyes and breathing deeply, but found herself fighting back tears. Ambivalence...indecision...cognitive dissonance. Whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. She wanted to try...to be the strong, caring person that Petrine said she was. 

But she simply could not. Laying on her side in the same bed where this man had first taken her...she wanted to crawl into a ball and cry. How the fuck could she love one man and still want two others? His brothers no less. 

And what was bothering her most was the warm wetness that she felt leaking between her thighs. The what-if's of that alone was shattering her whole world. To love one and want his...and to be nothing more than a breeder to the other. She choked back bile. 

She needed time...time to come to terms with it all. The boat lurched the tiniest bit and she smiled...yes, time to get her sea legs in this strange new world of theirs. And his cold, aloofness was not helping. Even if he could not give her Bjorn's loving care, she would prefer Mikael's angry bad-boy...to Mister Cool. Mister This Is Just Business...making a baby was not just business...not to her anyway. 

"Open your legs," his calm voice behind her commanded. 

'Never let me see you cry again,' it was her mother's voice that she heard. She breathed deeply and obeyed...simply because that was who she was. Even as stripped raw as her emotions were just then, maybe especially as vulnerable as she was then...submission was what came easiest. Losing herself not in her thoughts, but simply turning control over to someone else. 

And damn him, this man took that control so fucking easily.

***

Sven fought to concentrate on the knots, the rope, the pattern against her soft, warm skin. But it was only how natural that all was that was his saving grace. He felt the stiffness in her body. Another reminder...you will never have her. Not the way you want. Not the way he does.

The further she pulled away, the tighter the rope became. But it was not enough. All the lengths could not really bind her to him the way he needed her. He re-positioned the intricately woven pattern that was the anchor between her legs. It formed a tight thong of sorts covering her from bare mons to past the plug which he had left in place. 

The rope wound up her back, across her shoulders, then tightly around her tits that were turning the most enticing shade of purple. It laced down her tummy through the loop at the end of anchor then round her waist. It was the very type of artwork that he knew thrilled her. And still it was not enough. 

He checked her circulation once more, running his nails along her skin until the lines shone white then watching and counting as they faded. It was perfect. Not as perfect as her pale skin that pinked around the edges of the tight rope. Not as perfect as the woman he...wanted, that was safe. 

"Too tight?" he asked even though he knew the answer,

She shook her head without looking at him. "No, Sir," she whispered. But her use of the title was only another reminder. It was his name upon her lips that he wanted to hear. 

"Over my knee then" he said as he guided and positioned her exactly as he wanted her so that the round globes of that gorgeous ass was raised high in the air. 

His hand came down on her right cheek. He smiled as it shook lightly from the blow and turned a light shade of pink. He repeated it on the left one. Alternating between them with light blows designed to warm the flesh...and other things. Her soft moans said that it was doing both. 

Then he increased the power of his downward stroke. Her skin flamed redder as she jumped a bit on his lip. His other hand on the small of her back steadied her, "Do not move, Kirsten." He landed another and although she stiffened, she did not jump this time.

He delivered another dozen in rapid succession until her bottom flamed as brilliantly as her hair. And each blow was met with a deeper moan. He could hear and feel the pain in each one...but there was pleasure there too. Gods...she was perfection. 

He delivered one final solid spank right in the center of her ass, "Do you feel it? The plug moving inside your ass with each of them. It excited you, did it not?"

He heard her soft whimper, "Yes, damn it, yes. Is that what you fucking want to hear? Yes, I fucking want you. Yes, you fucking play my own damned body against me." She rolled over, stared at him and those blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Is that what you want to hear, Sir?"

"Not even fucking close," he growled as he laced his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back. He turned her over and shoved her backwards on the bed as he loomed over her. But he would have to settle if that was all he could have, because this woman had become his fucking addiction. 

He reached backwards for his jeans on the floor. He found his knife in the pocket and opened the blade. He was not wasting fucking time untying the damned mess. It was only rope. And right then it stood between him and what he needed. To bury himself deep inside of her wet cunt. To fuck her until her screams echoed in the dark night. 

If that was all he could be to her, then damn it he would make damned sure that she remembered every single moment of him inside her. Every orgasm he gave her. He would store up every moan, whimper and scream. Like treasure his ancestors pillaged. Like money in the bank. He would store them all up. Save them for the times when she... 

Damn it, he did not want to even think about it. A quick flick of the blade at the loop or rope just above her pubic bone and the whole thing began to unravel. What had taken him time to craft, to create...was gone in an instant. It reminded him how precarious life could be...over in an instant. Just as his father's had been...before he was even born. Just as his could be. And what would he leave behind? To show for living...

He pushed her back on the bed. His hands clinched tightly in her hair as he held her down. His mouth pillaged hers. He felt her push against him, try to dislodge him. He plunged deep inside her in a single stroke. 

Then her fingers were not pushing him away but curling into shoulders, drawing him closer as her too fucking tight cunt came on his cock. That only drove him harder, maddened him as he thrust repeatedly inside of her. He gave into all of the demons that had haunted him. Until they consumed him. Until she swept him away in her responsive body. Until once more he emptied himself...his very fucking soul it seemed this time within her. And still it was not enough, he thought as he rolled off of her. 

It would never be enough, he knew and he drew her reluctant body back against him. He fell into sleep but his dreams were haunted with death, darkness and loss. 

***

Kirsty waited until his gentle snoring told her that he slept. She tried to move away at least, but his arm about her waist would not release her. She fought the tightness in her throat. The tears stinging the back of her eyes. 

Damn him, damn this man to hell. Damn that first message. Damn that photo of him on the control deck that entranced her from the beginning. Damn him for the way he had drawn her through that turnstile and handed her artic wildflowers...that he picked himself. Orlaya grandiflora...white lace. Damn him for this too. Damn him for how easily he could slip past her defences...turn her own body against her. 

She felt the tears spill from her eyes silently. Damn him because it would never mean the same thing to him that it did to her. To him it was just sex. Biology. Reproduction. Spiced with kink. Her fingers gently caressed his arm where it wrapped about her waist. Why could it not be to her too? 

Because as much as he angered her, she cared for him. Wanted to believe Petrine's words that he too needed her. That she might one day be more to this man too than simply a fuck... She choked back the tears at the thought...the mother of his son. She swallowed the bitter bile at the cold clinical assessment. 

Then she chuckled as she shifted in his arms as she thought...well, at least she had managed to chip away that Mister Cool veneer. Though how she had no idea. Yes, she liked the heat...his heat as she rubbed slowly against him and drifted off into a restless sleep.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 09



Sven brushed the strand of hair back from her face. He could not resist the urge to simply caress it between his fingers for a long moment. It was incredibly soft, but not as soft of her skin...her generous ass that had cradled his cock the whole fucking night...or most of all the tender heart that beat between those full tits. He shook his head and cursed under his breath. 'What the fuck are you going to do?' asked that tormenting voice in his head.

This morning though there was not much he could do. Right now, he needed to wake her up. He had wanted to let her sleep later, after keeping her up half the damned night. But after the way his baby brother stormed out of the house, he shook his head. He was definitely not the one to go after Bjorn. Nor were Olaf and their mother, who had broken open the hidden vault of family secrets to him. And Mikael? With his own issues?

No, she was the only one that stood a chance of reaching Bjorn now. Of making him see through the betrayal he must be feeling. How had it come to this? How many times could they have simply explained it all to him without all this damned drama? Every single time the kid had begged for a baby brother or sister was a lost opportunity. Back then he might not have even connected the pieces.

Damn, Mama...and their fathers! They should have never kept what happened a secret from him. In the end, Mama had been all right. They all had. Sort of anyway. The important thing was that she had not died. But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. A horrible lie as he remembered that year...and all the pain it had held. And the painful silence since then? 

He let her hair go, brushing it back out of her face, caressing her cheek tenderly until she stirred in her sleep. She frowned as she rolled over and stretched, "Sven?" she whispered in that sexy, throat tone. His cock hardened just at the sound of his name on her lips. Even after taking her four times last night, he was more than ready to bury himself in her welcoming depths again. 

But as much as his body needed hers, his baby brother needed her more. "God morgon," he offered as he reached for the still steaming cup of tea he had sat next to the bed earlier. "You might need this," he offered with as much of a smile as he could muster.

She half smiled in return and clutched the duvet tighter, drawing it up to cover more of those lush breasts. "Thank you," she muttered as she blew on it. How would it feel if she did that across the head of his cock, he wondered. 

She brought the cup to her lips, how many times had he kissed those lips last night. He could tell they were still a bit swollen even. Kissing had never been his thing. It was too intimate, much too intimate for his taste. Except when it came to her. With her, he needed to taste and feel all of it. 

Her smile was wider and her eyes a bit less dreamy when she lowered the cup a moment later, "Tack," she said.

"You are learning quickly," he smiled as he bit back the words 'good girl.' It would not do spoil her with them. She needed to earn them.

"Tack så mycket," she replied as he bit his tongue. She smiled and drained half the cup. "You know for coffee drinkers you are all getting damned good at making a decent cup of tea."

He laughed, "Yes, we shall have to keep the damned stuff on hand until we convert you."

She shook her head, "Lycka till med det du. Good luck, I hate the stuff," she finished it and handed the cup back to him as she clutched the duvet and sat up in bed. "What time is it?"

His eye brows went up; she was getting quite good at Swedish in less than a week. "Earlier than I wanted to wake you. I had planned to let you sleep until noon. But I need your help," he stammered a bit. "We need your help."

Her eyes searched the room until they found her clothes folded on the chair across the room. He noticed the frown that creased her pretty face and it was all too easy to guess her thoughts. Normally, he would have never ceded so easily to such insecurities, but right now it was not his wife's behaviour that needed correcting but his baby brother's. So he picked them and handed them to her. 

"Tusen tack," she responded with a smile. Damn, she was getting very good at their language. "So what do you need my help with?" she asked as she tried very hard to unfold her sweater and put it on over her head without dropping the duvet and revealing her full figure. In the end, she gave up and looked up at him, "Turn around."

Sven debated the issue. Yes, his brother needed her right then. But if he allowed this one to pass unchallenged it set a precedent, a huge one, and more importantly fed her insecurities. "No, you are my wife. You dress and undress in front of me," but before she could argue he launched into the crux of the matter.

"I do not feel like wasting time arguing with you when I have every intention of winning this one. And when Bjorn needs you more right now than you need to be playing the shy little girl with a man, who has seen, touched and tasted every fucking inch of that body. So get up and get that cute ass dressed or you can spend half an hour that we do not have standing in the corner." 

He stepped forward and stared into the depths of her blue eyes, "And you will be standing there naked, my beautiful wife." He punctuated his words with a slap to her bum. "Now get dressed while we talk."

***

Kirsty exhaled slowly. Damn him. Damn him to... She searched her mind for the stories that Bjorn had told her as they cuddled together after making love. They always talked...about anything...everything...nothing. 

Not so with Mister Cool. Yes, fuck Atlas. He reminded her more of a favorite series of books as a child, Mister Men. And this one was Mister Cool. And damn him to Helveti; that was it. Damn Mister Cool to Helveti.

She wanted to argue. Honest, she did. Punishment be damned. She was not going to just parade around naked in front of him. Hell that was hard enough with Bjorn and she knew he loved her. With Mikael? Well, honestly, she was no longer certain what things would be like with him, now that they had a truce. But with Sven, intimacies aside, she still felt more like a prize heifer than the wife he called her. 

But they could have that argument later. "What is wrong with Bjorn?" she asked as she stood up, still half clutching the duvet as she struggled into her jeans. 

He shook his head at her; it was clear from his stare that he was not pleased. Too damned bad. This time he was not bullying her...Domming her into anything. Maybe it was about time he learned that she had a little thing called limits and maybe naked was one of them. A fucking hard one at that, she considered as she buttoned up the jeans and pulled the sweater down to cover her too soft tummy. 

Damn the man, why did his eyes have to linger there of all places? Another reminder of all she was to him, "Bjorn?" she demanded; this time with an edge to her voice.

He sighed and looked back up into her face, "Mama and Olaf spoke to him over breakfast this morning. About..." he trailed off.

She shook her head, "Why? Why would they do that now? After all these years. Didn't they know it would upset him?"

"Because Mama just had to go telling you for some stupid reason and because you are the world's worst fucking liar." He stepped closer and his thumb caressed her cheek, "One look in those gods' be damned eyes and baby brother would know something was wrong." 

"Even after fucking you all night long, I can still see it there. How long exactly do you think it would take him to get the story out of you? How many sweet words or tender kisses until you told him every fucking thing, sweetheart?"

"Hell, you don't even love me and still you cannot deny me any fucking perversion I want. How much more with the one of us that you do fucking love?" His whole body was stiff. Those lines around his mouth and eyes seemed etched in stone. 

For a moment, she wanted to wrap her arms about him, press her body to his and deny it. Deny that it was only Bjorn, whom she loved. But the steel blue in those eyes held her back. Why? Why would she risk rejection from a man that despite Petrine's words only wanted one thing from her? 

Well, maybe more than one thing, but that was just kink and sex. All men needed that. It did not mean he gave a damn about her. No, this one was definitely a two-way street. "I would not have said anything," she asserted.

He shook his head, "That's just it. You don't need to say a damn thing for us to know when you are upset. Even I know that right now you want to hit me. Go ahead, dear wife. Maybe another round of lust filled fucking will wipe that look off your face," he growled as he laced his fingers through her hair. His eyes held hers for a long moment.

Kirsty could not deny the hunger or the pain she saw there. But that did not mean this man cared, the way his mother wanted to believe. It only meant he wanted sex. Some Darwinian imperative to breed even. Maybe it meant he was even jealous of his 'baby' brother. She supposed guys could be like that. Want what the other had...even if they did not really want it for themselves. 

Might never...Her throat tightened at that thought. But she was not going to allow him to win, not anymore. She shoved at his chest, "Bjorn? Where is your brother? Where do I find him?"

He instantly released her as if just touching her burned like boiling water. "Oh yes, run. Run away. To the little virgin. Although I am sure you have handled that by now. You have managed to get from my idealistic baby brother what all those other women could not, haven't you, my dear sweet almost as innocent little wife?"

She turned on him, hands on her hips, "You were the one who came to me, remember? And hell yeah, if he needs me I am going to him. But just for your fucking information, I would do the same for Mikael. Hell, if you would take two fucking minutes to drop the über Dom crap, I'd do the same if you needed me. It's what people do when they..."

"Love someone?" He snarled, "Don't give me that shit, sweetheart. You barely can stand me. You think I did not feel how many times you drew away from my touch last night? That naïve little mind of yours having problems with how easily my experience can play that needy little cunt of yours in ways that the man you love cannot?"

"Well, here is something else for you to think about. Get fucking used to it. We are a package deal. And you know who you have to thank for that? My mother and the man you love. They were the fucking ones that insisted the old ways were best. They were the ones that dragged Mikael and I, kicking and screaming, into this little web of jealousy and deceit. Oh yes, if baby brother had not been so fucking starry eyed about 'tradition,' he could have had you all to his fucking self."

Kirsty had had enough, she stepped forward and shoved Sven with all her might back onto the bed, "Well, while we are at honesty, dear husband," the vitriol dripped from her words. "You try this on for size. It was you. Your photo that I saw first. Your mother even made me realize yesterday that if it had been Bjorn's I would have never replied. just like I did not with all those other messages."

"And it was you, who decided to bring me back here. You. You who had final fucking say as the eldest. And you who..." Her throat got so incredibly tight on the words. She could not even say 'took' me anymore. Truth was that as scared and insecure as she had been that day she had wanted it. Wanted him. This man. Before Bjorn or Mikael even came into the picture, it had been him.

She felt the tears threatening to spill once more. But she would be damned if she gave him that satisfaction. 'Never let them see you cry.' She turned her back and shook her head. What did it matter now? He was Mister Cool. Atlas. Closed off and unreachable...and that was his fucking choice. 

She had her own to make. "Where would he go?" Kirsty hope that he could not hear the husky hint of tears in her voice. "Where would Bjorn go when he's upset?" she focused upon what she could do in that moment. She would deal with this shit...another time. Maybe delay it as long as she could. 

"The old clubhouse that we played in as boys is the only place Mikael and I could think of," his voice was as quiet then as her own was. 

She was tempted for a moment to turn around. But why? What could she say or do? How could she reach the unreachable? By his own choice. She nodded without looking back, "I'll find Mikael then. Have him show me the way." 

She forced one foot in front of the other. Each step she reminded herself, you cannot help him if he won't let you. Focus as he says upon the one that does love you. The one that needs you now. But the short distance off the boat seemed like the never-ending maze of the Labyrinth and Sven the Minotaur. 

She lost the battle with those tears until her vision blurred and she stumbled on the bottom rung of the gangway. She might have fallen face first into the mud except for the strong arms that caught her, "Be careful, princess." 

Through the tears, she looked up into the cold steel grey of the man, who she had gone to find. "Take me to him, Mikael."

She saw him inhale as he nodded. "Of course," was all he said as he led her to a four wheel ATV. "Put this on," he said as he handed her a helmet. 

After the fight she had with Sven, she was too drained to argue as she strapped it on and hopped on behind him. Her arms wrapped about his waist and the only sound for the next ten minutes was the rumble of the engine. Each lost in thought. Neither willing to bend enough to share. 

When they arrived, it was the very edge of the Holding. The fjord ran just feet from where he stopped. Mikael pointed to a bunch of trees that had thicker underbrush than most of the island. "Through there about twenty yards. It isn't much but you cannot miss it. Just a basic lean-to that Sven and I built for him when he could barely walk. We used to come out here all the time before I went to sea..."

She watched his face, saw the play of emotions there. She wanted to reach out brush the frown from around his lips, "When Mama needed some time alone...for her flowers or to write in her journals, I'd bring the little hellion out here to give her a break." 

He paused and looked up at the sky as if they could take him back to that time, "Anyway, since the car and the boat are still here, there are not many places he could go. I am betting this is it. But I'll wait five minutes, just to be sure. Take you back if I am wrong."

She smiled and brushed a brief kiss on his cheek, "Thank you, Mikael."

He shook his dark head, "For what? Not strangling him back then when I could have?" he chuckled. He sighed and brushed hair back from her face that the helmet had displaced, "I know I probably don't need to say this, but just never hurt him, okay?"

Kirsty fought back the tears that had remained just below the surface as she nodded. This time she boldly pressed a chaste kiss upon his warm full-lips, "I won't." 'And neither will I hurt you,' she thought as she turned. Torn once more. 

She felt hysterical laughter welling up inside of her, "How the fuck did you do this shit, Rachel?" she whispered to the crisp early morning autumn air. 

She hoped that something was out there, their gods or hers. Because she could really use some help here. If loving one man was hard, loving three seemed impossible. But she also knew that if one of those gods suddenly appeared and forced her to choose, she could not. Not even with Mister Cool. 

She smiled as she pushed a branch aside and came into a small clearing. He sat on a stone in front of a collection of logs that might have once been a mighty fortress to a small boy. Even with his back to her, he looked as broken as it was. She walked to him and simply placed her hands on his shoulders. 

When he turned, she saw tears in those Kelly green eyes and her throat tightened even more than if his hand were on her throat. She knelt on the cold ground next to him and simply pressed her forehead to his. Sometimes words just got in the way.

***

Bjorn reached for her, the only solid ground in a world that was shattered and falling away. He could not help it. As much as he wanted and even needed to protect her, the love and concern he saw in her eyes melted all his resolves. He could never deny her anything as his mouth took hers. 

The emotions were raw, just as he felt in that moment. But with her none of it mattered. Just her tender caress, her concerned smile and the genuine care in those blue eyes, did any fucking thing else matter? Would it? Ever? 

At least not in that moment as his hands inched beneath the coat and her sweater. Even in the crisp autumn air, her skin was soft and warm and welcoming. All he needed most in that moment. But it wasn't, not really. 

His fingers found the button at the top of the damned jeans and popped it off in urgency. His other hand joined the battle as together they tore the zipper open, slipped to her hips and shoved the roughness away. His mouth never left hers even in the heat of battle. 

She too seemed to share his need for urgency as she lifted just enough to allow him to push them to her knees. She discarded them, kicking them among the dead leaves. When she came back to him, her fingers fumbled at the waistband of his own. 

But he had long since lost patience as he pushed hers aside and tore at his own with the same delicacy as he had dispensed with hers. It took only a second for his cock to spring free, to rise between them as he pulled her onto his lap. With no preamble, he sank fully into her. Found and took the solace she offered, that she alone could give. 

He pulled her tighter against him, as if he did not squeeze the very air from her lungs, she would slip away. As if she were the wind and he was powerless to capture it in his sails, even though it was all that propelled him forward. He knew he could not fully capture it...keep it. Her love was the wind, ever changing and ever constant, moving and blowing across him, flowing and ebbing. It was all he wanted or needed as fleeting as it was. 

Even as his hands on her hips guided her movements, as he lifted his and filled her, he knew it was not enough. It never would be. No matter how many times she opened her legs, no matter how often she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, no matter how many times he felt her shudder and tremble, her tight cunt clasping about his throbbing cock. It was not enough. Not a fucking lifetime of her would ever be enough.

But there were no guarantees in this life. His mother's words echoed like the yodeller's song off the mountain tops. The what-ifs drove him, haunted him, and pushed him onwards as he growled into her open mouth like the wounded animal he was. His fingers bore into the soft flesh of her hips as he propelled them forward. 

It was not delicate, not soft and tender the way he tried to be with her, but he needed her too much just then to worry about such things. He would give her that and more...later. Maybe much later, but right now he needed to push these demons aside. To reassure himself that she was here, that she was his, that she always would be. Would always welcome him as she did now. 

It was as fast and desperate as he felt in that moment. As raw and fuck it, just as needy. And he did not give a gods be damned. He did need this woman. His wife. His woman. His. And in that moment, she was his alone. His. 

His fingers sank deeper into the softness of her hips even as his cock sank deeper into depths that were softer still. "Fuck," he cursed into her mouth as he felt his body betraying him. Gods be damned. Not yet, his mind screamed. But her arms only wrapped tighter about his neck. Her moans greeted the thrust of his tongue against hers as she lifted her hips to draw him deeper still.




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 09



He fought every fucking instinct inside of him as he drew back. His body screamed out in pain as he slipped from her hot, wet cunt. It cursed him for the fool he was. But he only nibbled at her bottom lip as his hand wrapped about his hard length. He had barely touched himself as the first hot jet erupted and landed on her bare skin.

He bit harder on her lip, sharing the pain he felt at how fucking inadequate it was as he emptied himself. And that was exactly how it felt. So fucking empty. The voice in his head called him a fool, and he nodded in agreement as he drank from the sweet comfort of her swollen lips for several more long moments. 

He reluctantly broke the sweet caress of her tongue against his, open and accepting. Her soft lips pressed to the corner of his mouth as he leaned his forehead against hers once more. He tried to smile as he stared into those blue depths. 

The pain was undeniable. Tears spilled from the corner of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks even as her fingers in his shoulders clutched and drew him closer. His throat tightened at what he saw there...he had hurt her. The one thing he had sworn never to do. But he had. 

Damn it, reason argued...better to hurt her than to lose her. But he could not stand that look in her eyes. He sighed as he shook his head and rolled to lay on the cold, hard ground next to her. He brought his arm up to cover his eyes as he once more fought back the pain and tears. 

He fucking could not risk losing her. Maybe ever. His throat tightened so much that he feared he would never breathe again just at the thought of it. He loved her. He needed her. Too fucking much. But how could he make her understand that?

He was not expecting the hand that wrapped suddenly about his waist. Or the way her soft curves pressed so tightly against his side. But it was the sweet smell of her hair as she laid her head over his heart that was almost his underdoing. 

How the fuck could he resist her? How long could he fucking hold out when even though he had hurt her, she still came to him, reached for him, and accepted his darkness? He pressed his lips against the top of her head and wrapped his arm about her waist. He held her, just held her as he watched the clouds gathering overhead through the mostly bare branches of the trees. 

He was not sure how long they lay there together, half dressed as the winds began to pick up off the fjord. He knew they should get dressed, make their way back to the house. The place he had always thought of as such a loving and welcoming home, but sought to avoid now. He no longer knew what to think. 

Her fingers moved to trace just over his heart. She pressed a tender kiss over the spot. Even through the layers of his coat and sweater, he swore he could feel the heat of her breathe upon his skin, melting the coldness that had wrapped suddenly about it. But that heart stopped, froze as surely as this land soon would, when she looked up at him and whispered a single word, "Why?"

***

Kirsty breathed deeply and forced as much of a reassuring smile as she could. Again she asked the question to which she already knew the answer, "Why, Bjorn?"

He closed his eyes once more. His handsome face scrunched in pain that she ached to ease. His answer was barely audible, "I can't lose you. I can't."

Her arm tightened about him. His honesty always touched something deep inside her. She sighed as she just held him for a long moment. "In case, you have not noticed, sweetie, I am not your mother." 

Her throat tightened as it always did when she thought about her body, especially with Thor, but this time she tried her damnedest to joke as she reached down to slap her bum, "These ought to be good for something. Child bearing hips my friend Roz used to call them."

He opened his eyes and shook his head, "Stop it, right now, Kirsty. We had this conversation, my dear wife, no more with putting yourself down. Understood?"

She nodded and turned her face into his broad chest as she placed a kiss over his too-soft heart. "Yes, Master," she whispered at that tone. Even through his pain, she came first, her throat tightened at the realization.

"No, sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you? Master has nothing to do with it." He brushed her hair back out of her face. Her breath caught at the realization that even now it was he, who comforted her. "Just a husband, your husband, who is very much in love with his wife."

"And a wife that loves her husband just as much. So why, Bjorn? Why did you pull out?" She stammered over the words. For all that they had done...all of them...the truth was that before her husbands she had been practically a virgin...in some ways more so than he had been. So she was still more than a bit uncomfortable talking about such things.

But talking about them was the only way forward. "Even if you don't," she blushed and had to look away before she could continue. She sighed and screwed up her courage, "Do you think that will stop Sven?" 

She swallowed pain that was too fucking fresh and fought back tears at its reminder, "I am a brood mare to your brother...an incubator for his son is all I am to that man. So answer me this...if, and I am not for a moment giving any credence to your concerns, but if something did happen to me, would it matter whose baby it had been?"

"Because short of killing your brother, or..." She shook her head, no, it honestly was not an option she wanted to think about. Even as much as she loved this man, she knew that if...there would always be something missing. Some part of herself, however small already belonged to Mikael. And damn him to Helveti, even Sven. "You cannot stop him. So what real difference would it make whether it was his child...or yours?"

She felt him stiffen at the harshness of her words. But he was the one, who had said they should have no secrets between them and as hard as this was for both of them, it was the only way now. "You above all others know the other of side it. You know that one of my biggest regrets of the six years I spent with Raj was wasting time on my biological clock. You know...I want a baby."

She inhaled deeply as she turned his head to face her. "And while this life," once more she stammered over the words, "it may not allow me total control over whose. It is yours I want. A child conceived not out of duty or need, but in love. Are you willing to deny me even that chance, Bjorn?"

His eyes looked towards the clouds that were growing darker by the moment. She saw the unshed tears glistening in them and for a moment she feared that she had pushed too far, been too honest. When he spoke at last, his voice was barely more than a whisper. She strained to hear it over the wind that howled through the trees. 

"I know what you say is true. I get that. But," he paused and drew her even tighter against him. His smile was forced, "I just need time. Time to think it all through. Time to come to terms with everything."

He shook his head and she saw him lose the battle as a single tear spilled from the corner of his eye. "Do you know how many fucking times I asked Mama for a baby brother or sister? Do you have any idea how it feels knowing that every fucking time I did I was hurting her all over again? I never understood then. Why she would get quiet and that look on her face. It all makes perfect sense now."

Kirsty tightened her squeeze about his waist, "Bjorn, that was your mother's choice. Hers and your fathers. It was her sacrifice to make, for right or for wrong. She did what she thought was best for you. It is what any mother would do."

He shook his head, "Not any mother."

She frowned thinking not only of the woman who had abandoned the precious little girl that in a matter of days had already captured her heart. She thought too of her own mother. Would Nancy Dickens have made such a sacrifice for her? Something told Kirsty that she would not. "But yours did and that is what matters, Bjorn."

"Now you have choices to make. Do we fight to make this work or do we let things over which we had no control, control us?"

He nodded as he looked down at her. "Like I said, I know you are right. Honestly, that is what I want too. To see your body ripen with a child. Yes, mine." Still he frowned and shook his head, "But knowing that not only did my birth almost kill my mother, but that it destroyed her chance for any more..."

She nodded and lightly caressed his side. Still she remained silent, offering what support she could. He forced that smile once more as he began again, "I am not denying that you are right about everything you say, but as I said I just need some time."

She nodded her head slowly. The wounds were still fresh. She was probably pushing too much, being unrealistic with her expectations. Was some time too much to ask? But on the other hand, every single day that she gave him put his brother at a distinct advantage in the fucking 'sperm wars' as Mikael called them. He had already abdicated the playing field, now Bjorn was too. Handing her over to Sven. 

But she forced her own smile in return, "Yes, time. As long as you promise me we will keep talking. Don't shut me out. I want to be there for you." She shook her head again, "No, I need to be there for you now, every bit as much as you would for me. So do we have a deal, my beloved husband?"

He bent and his soft lips brushed hers, robbing her of all senses, even the air in her lungs. The kiss that started out soft and comforting soon ignited into one of intense need. By the time they finally broke apart several long moments later, her body was aflame once more. As she looked down she realized that he was also hard once more.

"Besides someone keeps telling me that I need to learn to suck cock."

***

Bjorn smiled at her as his fingers tightened in her hair, "And that, my sweet Freya, is why I love you so fucking much." The way that her body trembled and shook in his arms enflamed him. His need to possess this woman completely. To control her...all of her. 

He moved his mouth until it brushed just against her ear. He fought back temptation, his hands remaining about her waist. He touched her nowhere else. He lowered his voice. "Come for me, my sweet Freya."

Her whole body bowed against him. Her screams wrent the silent forest around them. And he did not give a damn who might hear as he drew back to better observe her. Her head was thrown back, those blue orbs closed. "Open your fucking eyes, Kirsty. Open them for me, baby. Open them just like you always open those soft thighs, that tight cunt for my cock. Open for me, my sweet Freya."

Her fingers clutched tighter at his biceps, but her obedience was instant. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she clung to him...helpless, lost in the power of her release, the orgasm that his voice alone gave her. The orgasm that he alone could. It was the headiest of drugs...that kind of control over the woman he loved. 

"Who do you belong to, Kirsty?" His fingers wrapped in her hair, drew her head back to look deeper into the depths of her eyes. "Who owns you, baby?"

He knew he was crossing a line. One he had no right to. But, damn all the gods in Asgard, he did not give a fuck. He needed her. He loved her. She would always be more to him than she could ever be to them. She was his. His choice. His woman. His wife. 

"Whose, Kirsty?" he growled as he pulled tighter until tears shone in those eyes. He saw her throat moving but her words were barely audible. Her body still writhing in ecstasy. He lowered his head, focused his all on her words.

"Yours," she breathed as she clutched his arms until he felt her short nails biting into the muscles.

His mouth covered hers as he captured and conquered her. His lips burned and branded hers. He was determined to erase all else from her mind. To purge his brother's touch from her. To erase them and the whole fucking world from her mind. 

His fingers imprisoned her head as one hand fisted tighter into her soft hair. But the other had other ideas as it mauled and kneaded her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she cried out into his mouth. Was it pain? Was it pleasure? Both? He did not give a damn in that moment, only that she knew whose touch gave it to her. 

"Mine, Kirsty. You are fucking mine," his hand tugged her body up and over his. "Suck my cock, sweet wife. Suck it until you fucking gag, then take me even deeper. Suck it until I come in that sweet little mouth. Then swallow every last drop of my come."

He watched the fear spark in her eyes. And he liked it. Because alongside that fear was submission, trust and devotion. He had discovered his drug and was instantly addicted as he forced her head down on his hard, throbbing cock. He was anything but gentle as he used her hair to force her further down it than he would have dared otherwise. 

Until at last she did as he had promised, gagging on it. Still he did not release her, "That's right. Now swallow, sweetheart. Swallow and relax your throat. Breathe through your nose."

He smiled as he felt the tension that had been strumming through her body relax just the tiniest little bit. He used it to lift his hips and force another half an inch down her throat until he felt her tense and begin to gag again. "Come for me, my sweet Freya," he commanded in a voice so guttural that even he did not recognize it.

Her body bowed and her eyes flew open as another powerful orgasm, the second in as many minutes, overcame her. Her face turned almost as flaming as her hair as she struggled to breathe between the twin sensations of her orgasm and his cock shoved deep in her throat. A throat that relaxed a bit more in that instant. 

Relaxed just enough for him to begin sawing in and out of her sweet mouth. He used her hair to guide her head up and down his cock, even as his hips pounded out a rapid beat against her face. He set the tempo. He guided her. He used her. Without apology as she fluctuated between gagging and slurping at his cock.

He had had better blow jobs...technically. His beloved wife was not ready for making a porn, but that did not matter. He had never enjoyed one more. She pleased him for one reason...she surrendered all control to him and that was what he wanted, needed, more than anything just then. 

If his world was spinning out of control, had morphed into some unknown parallel universe where brothers fought over and lusted after their woman, where everything he thought he had known was called into question, at least he controlled this. The only thing that truly mattered. He controlled his wife, his woman. And that was all that mattered. 

He fought for control, tried to deny his body the release that it craved. But the tingling in his balls only grew worse as he felt them rise, knew there was no holding back. Instead he slammed his hips upwards even as he drove her head down. Impaling her face on his hard cock until he cried out as each spurt of his hot come made its way down her gullet. 

"Swallow it all. Drink my jizz. Suck me dry," he cried out as he kept pumping mindlessly at her face. His orgasm seemed to just roll on and on as he guided her head up and down on his cock. "Take it all, baby," he whispered as he felt the last bit drain from the tip of his cock into her mouth. 

He was reluctant to release her as he stared into those wide eyes once more. "Good girl," he growled. "That's my fucking good girl," he groaned as he pulled her up by the hair to lay once more by his side. 

He knew there was a storm moving in fast. He knew he should get them home. Knowing was one thing. Finding the energy and the will to face what lay back there was another. As he drew her tightly against his body and kissed the top of her head, he whispered, "My good girl," once more before opening his coat and wrapping her in it. 

His brothers be damned. Traditions be fucked. At that moment, laying there with her in his arms was all that was fucking real. And he was not ready to release that fantasy just yet. Even less ready to share her with any of them. 

In the end, he forced himself to pick her up and carry her to the small shelter that had once been their fort. His and Mikael's, even occasionally Sven when he was home with their fathers. They had all played here together. He lifted a couple of the fallen logs back into place, then cuddled into the corner with her, wrapped them both in his coat and waited out the storm. Together. The way it should be. The two of them against the world. Against the gods themselves as Thor pounded Mjölnir and thunder broke the silence. But he had all he wanted then. He had her. All to himself.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 10



Kirsty sipped her morning tea as she watched Monika swing. The storm had finally chased them back to the house after dark last night, but even then she knew Bjorn was reluctant. She was reminded once more of a couple of teenagers sneaking in after curfew. They had stopped downstairs only long enough to raid the refrigerator. 

Even at breakfast this morning, the usually jovial Bjorn had remained withdrawn and sullen. Only in her arms had he been the man she had come to love. Even then though that shadow remained. They had made love a couple more times once they made their way to her room. And it was making love, no kinky stuff at all. Well almost none, the man's kisses were lethal after all. Each time though, he had been almost paranoid about pulling out of her before he came. That still hurt, bothered her. Even if she had agreed to give it, him, time. 

Of course, Sven had only made things worse with his equally sullen attitude over breakfast that morning. He had barely spoken three words the whole time, but he was constantly sneaking glances in her direction when he thought no one was looking. She was not certain what to make of that...or him for that matter. He had been the one that woken her, sent her to Bjorn, so why the attitude. Other than their 'fight.'

She smiled...fight. It was not like her actually. She tried to remember a single argument with Raj, but she could not. She frowned, was that because neither actually cared enough to disagree? She shook her head. What did it matter now? He had his wife and the baby she was expecting. And she had her...three husbands. She laughed aloud at the idea.

"What's so funny?" Mikael's baritone caressed her mind.

She turned and smiled up at him around the brim of the mug, "The idea of three husbands actually."

He nodded, but she noticed the cloud that passed over his face as he ignored her comment, "How is she doing?" He frowned as he ran his hand through his darker blonde hair, "I really do appreciate all you are doing with her...with us. She seems so much more...I don't know...relaxed. Thank you," he stammered.

Kirsty saw the tension written all over his face, his stance. Something was wrong, very wrong. If it had been Bjorn, she would have simply asked. But though she and Mikael had a truce, she still was not confident talking with him except when it came to his daughter. So she stuck to that and hoped he would reveal whatever was bothering him in time. 

"She truly is a wonderful little girl, Mikael. All of you have done so well with her. I am sure that you would have found some way to reach her even if I had not come," she began.

He shook his head, "No, we could never have done this...not as quickly, not like you have. I just wish..." he trailed off. Kirsty noticed him clenching and unclenching his hands at his side, "Odin be damned Sven, why now?"

Kirsty frowned at him, "What do you mean, why now? What has Sven got to do with anything?"

Mikael turned to her, his face dark and sullen. "Sven insists on going back to sea."

Panic rose inside of her. Why she was not completely certain? Was it that this place was still so new, that she could not imagine it without them? Of course, she would miss Bjorn and Mikael. But maybe it was Petrine's stories that niggled most at her mind. Lars. Whatever it was, she was not going to over-react. 'Never let them see you cry.' "Why? When?"

Mikael sighed heavily, "He wanted to leave today, but Bjorn and I insisted we wait until tomorrow morgan at least. As for why? Do you think the great, high and mighty captain shares that with us?" 

The vitriol dripped from each of his words. For the first time, she thought about what it must truly be like for them, for Mikael and Bjorn. It was not like they got to choose their career, they were born to it. What's more the very order in which they had been born placed Sven over them. Not skill or merit, though she did not doubt that he had those. But so too did both of his brothers. It seemed intensely unfair somehow. 

"We'll just see about that," she said as she placed her hands on her hips and turned to storm through the woods for another confrontation with the man. 

Mikael shook his head and reached for her. His hand wrapped about her upper arm and brushed innocently against her breast. The way her body flamed to life though was anything but. She sucked in a deep breath and bit back a low moan that escaped as a whisper anyway. 

"Sorry," he mumbled as he cast his eyes towards the ground. That drew her own eyes downward as she noticed the thickening in the front of his jeans. She smiled at the knowledge that truce or no, she could still have some effect on her bad boy. His voice too was husky as he asked, "Where are you going? What do you think you can do?"

"I am going to give him a piece of my mind, that is what I am going to do. Who does he think he is to kidnap me and then just dump my ass here all alone after less than a week? I barely know this place. And while I like your mother and father, even she admits that big bed is lonely. Hell, no, what is the man thinking?" she raged uncharacteristically.

Mikael inhaled deeply, "We already pointed all that out to him, Kirsty. He said that this was our life and you had better get used to it."

"He said what?" she fumed until she feared that she looked cartoonish with wisps of smoke curling out her ears. "Take over here. I have a few things to say to Mister Cool."

Mikael shook his head and tightened his grip on her arm, "Leave it for now, please. Bjorn and I will ask my father to try speaking to him after dinner tonight. I promise."

She jerked her arm away, "No, enough is enough. He can't do this. If Ægir's Captive is going back to sea, I will be on it. If being abandoned like this before I even know my way around is how it is going to be, you can take me back now." Even as she said the words, her throat constricted, tightening until she would have sworn she felt Bjorn's hand on her throat.

But it was the dark look on Mikael's face that kept her frozen to the spot as much as his painfully tight grip, "No, no, we will not. You fucking belong here. You are ours. And if I have to fucking tie your ass to that bed again, you are not going anywhere. I have lo..." 

Mikael turned his head away as he released her, "What about her? What about my daughter? She is coming to care for you already."

She heard the tightness in his voice and though he did the best to keep his back to her she thought perhaps his eyes glistened a bit brighter in the morning sun. 'Yes, but do you?' she wondered. The fact that his friend façade had cracked enough to release her 'bad boy' if only momentarily was a good sign...she thought. 

"I have to try," she whispered as she turned and walked towards the woods that lead to the dock and the boat. This latest turn of events weighed heavily upon her. Was this Sven's way of punishing her for their argument yesterday? 

And if it was, what then? She might have boasted to Mikael that they could take her home, but his threat of tying her to the bed was far less binding than the tightness she felt in her chest at the thought of it. The thought of leaving this place...leaving them. She was not even certain that she could.

***

Sven watched her rage out of the woods. He did not need to guess what was on her mind. The only question was which of his brothers was he beating to a pulp for telling her before he could. He shook his head. He knew how this must look to them, but the truth was that they all could use a bit of breathing space. 

Her included. For the past week, she had been passed from brother to brother like a bone among a pack of wild dogs. She needed time to think, time alone to learn this place, their way of life. And if his mother insisted upon sharing family secrets, she could educate the woman on just how much of the time she would have on her own. 

At least until she had other things to occupy her mind. Things like a baby. He inhaled as she stormed up the deck towards him. He plastered a smile in place. Let her begin this one, "God morgan."

"God? There is nothing good about it. What do you mean you are going back to sea?" 

He loved the way her ears matched her hair then. He focused on that as he began, "We are fishermen. That means we fish. Fish are found in the sea. Thus we must go to sea...often."

"I get that, but why now? Why so fucking soon after dumping me here?"

It was the same question, he had been asking himself all morning. Yes, they needed the money. Their little bride expedition had not been cheap either in time or the money they invested in those false documents. 

Then too a few days at sea might give him and his brothers an opportunity away from her to get some things straight...one way or another. He could certainly use the chance to release some of this tension by smashing his baby brother's pretty face to pieces. 

But the honest truth was that he simply needed to get away. Away from her for a few days. Some time to think. To clear his head and come up with a plan. Their argument yesterday had shaken him. To begin with, he was not used to arguing with women. Period. His lovers never dared such things. Oh, they might try whining or cajoling but even then he simply moved on to the next one. 

But not her. As submissive as she was, she still found the back bone to stand up to him. Hell, his brothers had rarely done that. "Are you such a mouthy brat with my brothers?" the words were out of his mouth before he could censor.

"No, it just seems to be you that angers me so damned much," she replied with her hands on her hips.

He nodded as he picked up a length of rope. His cock hardened at the thought of all the things he could do to her with it. "Lucky me," he chuckled. 

"And you did not answer my fucking question. Why now?" she demanded with hands on her hips, which only emphasized her hour glass figure. 

"I am the captain. I decide when, where and for how long we fish. I certainly don't owe you an explanation," he growled when she would not drop it.

She squared her shoulders and took a step forward, "That might work with your brothers, but I am not a member of your fuckin crew. I am your wife."

Sven had had enough as he tossed the rope about her waist like a lasso and pulled her forward into his arms. He was fully hard the moment her body touched his. He tightened the rope even more, making sure she had no doubt about his reaction to her. 

"Wives have less say than crew, Kirsten. What is the problem? Haven't you had enough cock in the past week? Little Miss Prime and Proper, who went six years in a relationship that was most asexual, you got addicted to it now? Was baby brother too upset last night to fill that tight, greedy pussy with enough come?"

Her eyes flamed, but there was a glint in them that told him he had hit a nerve. Any other time with any other woman, he would have been smart enough to withdraw while he was ahead. This woman did something to him. Got under his skin. Made him throw caution to the wind. 

One hand slipped between them and between her lush thighs. His fingers dug into her jeans that covered liquid heat that scorched them even through the rough material. "No more pants. I will make certain that baby brother orders you new clothes before we leave. Or I will fucking do it myself. I want this sweet cunt bare and ready any damned time I want it from now on."

She struggled in his arms, fighting the rope. "Fuck you, Sven. I'll wear what I god damn want. And here is something else for you to remember: I decide who I fuck and when. I am the one that chooses who comes to my bed. And for the record, don't expect it to be you any fucking time soon."

He laughed, "Maybe you decide who spends the night in your bed, but that is not the same as who fucks that sweet pussy. You are in my territory now, sweetheart. On this boat I am captain and I do what I fucking like."

"So you would rape me?" she challenged.

He shook his head as he laughed, "Was it rape the first time I took you, sweet wife? No, challenge me like that again and I will show you exactly what I can do. I will make you so fucking hot and horny and you won't give a gods be damned. I'll have you so fucking mindless that you'll beg me to fuck you. To fill your greedy little cunt with my come and that cute belly with my baby."

He was in no mood to continue this argument so he shut her up as effectively as he could without a gag ball. His lips covered hers, swallowing whatever smart ass comment she was going to make. She continued to push and pull, fighting to get away as he tightened his hold on her. 

But by the time, his tongue wrapped about hers, those movements were less about breaking free and more about the way that her body moved in perfect time to his. 'Fuck' he cursed as he weighed his options. He was in no mood to be disturbed by either of his brothers, but right now he needed to bury himself deep inside his wife. To relieve some of the frustration he had been feeling since their last argument. 

'Fuck it,' he cursed once more as his fingers moved up and tore at the button and zipper on those damned tight jeans. Screw baby brother, he would order her clothes his own fucking self. And if Bjorn did not like it, well, one more excuse to re-arrange his face. Arrogant little prat, why had he chosen her? 

But even as he thought it, he remembered her words...she was right. He had had the final say. He had been the one that brought her on board Ægir's Captive. He was the one that captured her. And to hell with all of them, he would find a way to keep her. He would. 

His hands shoved the rough material down her legs as she suddenly realized what was happening. She renewed her struggles as he spun her around and shoved her against the railing of the boat. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded though her voice was low and throaty. That and the pink stains across her cheeks told him that she was not totally unmoved by his love making. 

He slid his hand between her thighs, spreading them as wide as he could with the jeans about her ankles. His fingers found her slick folds. His sweet wife was most definitely not as unmoved as she pretended to be. "What a husband does with his wife...taking what is mine," he growled.

Her blue eyes flamed as she turned to face him, "I am not yours. And I never will be," she spat defiantly.

"Really? You want me to show you, sweetheart? You forget how easily I made you call my name. Mine, Kirsten!" To prove his point, his fingers found her g-spot and he sent her spiralling over the edge of a mindless orgasm. He did not let up either. He pressed and massaged the bundle of nerves until she was whimpering and moaning. Her hips were moving in circles to greet and draw his fingers deeper with each stroke. 

Still he would not stop. Still he pushed her higher. He added a third finger, stretching her even more. He felt her cunt tighten around his fingers as he pressed incredibly deep inside of her. Her back arched and she opened her mouth to scream, but his covered it as he swallowed her cries. He felt the wetness as it gushed in a stream about his fingers. 

He growled into her throat as his wife's sweet cunt squirted around his fingers. He had been with other women that squirted, some far easier than this, but none fucking sweeter. He ripped at the button of his jeans, tore open the zipper and moved forward filling her pussy with his cock before her body even came down from the powerful release. 

It was going to be fast and furious. He knew that. And he did not give a fuck. Whether it lasted a minute or five, all he wanted was to empty his balls in her tight cunt. To seed her again. He slammed forward, burying himself fully before withdrawing almost completely. 

It was rough and fast, but the way her cunt squeezed and milked his cock he knew he need offer his wife no apologies. Despite her protests to the contrary, she wanted him. Wanted this. Maybe even needed this roughness as much or more than baby brother's sweet promises and gentle ministrations. 

He pounded away at her wet depths as his fingers bit into the ample soft flesh of her hips. He moved hard and deep. He lasted far longer than he thought he would, but that was only by sheer will. But when his orgasm did come it was shattering. It too lasted longer than he would have thought, rolling on and on in waves until he collapsed against her back driving her forward against the rail. 

It was a long moment as he continued to kiss those sweet lips, drink her moans and whimpers, until finally he broke the caress. He drew his head back just a bit, but was greeted with tears glistening in her eyes, "I hate you. I really hate you," she whispered as she pushed backwards, sending him sprawling against the hard wooden deck. 

Before he could respond, she pulled up the jeans and was running down the plank. Damn it. Why did she always get under his fucking skin? Why could she make him lose control as no other woman ever had? Worse yet...what the fuck was he going to do about? He stood up and pulled his jeans back together, it was a too tight squeeze as his cock was still fully hard, but he finally managed to zip them back up.

He was about to go after her when the one person he least wanted to see at that moment appeared out of the woods. His baby brother stared at him, "What the fuck do you think you are doing? She's our wife, not your whore."

Sven opened his mouth to argue with Bjorn's assessment, but what could he say? The look of anger and pain in his little brother's eyes mirrored his own disappointment in his behavior. He would have apologized but his brother held up his hand, "I'll go after her. I don't want to hear whatever the fuck you were about to say. Just stay the fuck away from her, Sven. I mean it."

Sven nodded...that had been the plan. To get back to the sea...to what he knew. And away from the wild whirlwind of emotions that she always stirred in him. Maybe Ran would hold the answers he sought. Maybe he could find some way to wipe her taste from his lips, her sweet surrender from his mind. But he doubted it. 

Oh, he might acquiesce to baby brother's demand...for now. But not for long. Only long enough to figure this damned thing out. He was determined. He was going to find some fucking way. Some way to reach her. Because screw Bjorn, she was his wife too. His, just as much as baby brother's or even Mikael's. His.

***

Bjorn took the stairs two at a time. He was about to knock on her door when he heard the shower running. He knew it would be her so he did not bother to even knock as he opened the door and stepped into the hazy, steam-filled room. 

She stood beneath the spray, her face lifted to it. The water must have been intensely hot from the overpowering warmth that filled the whole room, it had been transformed into a sauna almost. The pink blush that covered her curves from head to toe only confirmed his assessment. 

He stripped out of his own clothes and without a word joined her beneath the pounding water. It almost scalded him before he turned it down a bit. Then he gathered her in his arms and drew her against him. If the shower had been hot on his skin, her tears that fell on his chest were hotter still as her body shook in his arms, a torrent of them cascading down her cheeks and mingling with the water from the shower head. 

It was several long moments before she finally stirred in his arms. Her smile was incredibly weak as she stared up at him, her words haunted him, "Why?" All he could do was shake his head. He had no answer to offer her. 

He had never understood his oldest brother. At just twelve, Sven had been practically a man when he was born. His brother had always been gone more than he was home. Bjorn had been closer to Mikael, though even that was short lived as his middle brother too took to the sea. For the most part, it had been just him and Mama with the occasional 'visit' from his father, uncles and brothers. But he had never minded.




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 10



By the time, he had finally joined them in the family business, he had felt more like the outsider than a part of it all. Maybe that was why he had taken to his computers? Hell, even his own father had seemed disappointed that he had been so enamoured of books and learning. Sometimes he even wondered if the man had not liked Sven more than him. 

Her eyes were puffy and the whites so lined with tiny red blood vessels that they looked more pink. "Why does Sven treat me like this?" she whispered. 

Bjorn shook his head and tried to smile, but that question had him just as stumped. Sven had always been cold almost with his subs. Complete control was his brother's thing. What little he had seen of the way he had lost that control with her, both angered and frightened him. He was damned glad he had not seen more or they may well have come to blows. Feeling her still trembling in his arms, he knew they might yet. 

"Did he hurt you?" he forced the question past his lips even though he did not really want the answer.

She shook her head, "Not like that, no. It is just that..." She shook her head as she wrapped her arms about his waist. "Just hold me, okay?"

He frowned as he leaned his chin against the top of her head, "Of course, I will, baby. You know I love holding you. Anytime you need me, I am here."

"No, no, you won't be. Not tomorrow," her voice was low as it seemed to force out the words. 

He inhaled and forced himself to remain calm. It was the same fucking thing that had been bothering him since the moment that Sven announced this sudden trip. They had all agreed that they would give her at least two weeks...maybe a month to settle in before they went back to sea. Spend time with her, help her to adjust to their way of life. Now less than a week and they were back to fucking sea. What was his brother thinking?

He hoped Mikael would have better luck talking with his father. Perhaps the two of them could convince Sven to change his mind. It was for certain he was not the right one to 'speak' with the man. The only conversation he wanted with his eldest brother was fist to fist. 

He did not have an answer, not a good one anyway to give her. So he did the only thing he could do, he lifted her face and kissed her sweetly. The moment his lips touched hers though, he was as lost as he always was. The kiss went on and on as they stood beneath the spray of water that was turning cold. 

He was determined after what had happened in the woods and what he had seen on that boat, damn his brother, that he would keep it light. Just kisses and touches to comfort her, perhaps heal a bit of the damage that they had done.

He frowned as a thought occurred to him...was that it? He knew that Kirsty could get under his skin so fucking easily, but had she gotten to Sven too? It was not something he would have even thought possible. Or anything he wanted to consider because in order for her to have that effect on his brother that meant the man had to...he fumbled over the word in his mind. Sven had to love her just as he did. 

He came face-to-face with his new demons once more. It was one thing to share her with his brothers. It was quite another to think that they might care for her as he did. That they too might want and need to possess her as he did. It had seemed so simple when he had come up with this plan, when he had been fighting both of them just to go along with the tradition. Sven would get his sons. Mikael would have a new mother for Monika. And he would have a wife. 

The fact that his brothers might want or need something more from her than just practicalities was not a thought he had entertained. Honestly, he did not want to know either. Especially now with her beginning to make those soft mewing sounds in the back of her throat as she rubbed against him.

"Please" she whimpered as her too soft hands wrapped around his cock as she slid to the hard tile floor at his feet. He was instantly lost in the depths of her blues eyes as they stared up at him. She ran his half hard cock back and forth across her cheeks until it stood at full mast. 

"Fuck, baby. What are you doing?" he groaned as he reached out to brace his hands against the shower walls. 

That smile lit her face from within as her wet pink lips and tongue began to caress the head of his cock. "Just getting in a bit more practice before you leave, Master." She had barely finished the statement before those lips parted and she swallowed half of his length in a single stroke. 

"Shit," he cursed as it was his turn to fight back the urge to lose control once more. For a Nano second he could even have some sympathy for Sven. The woman could drive him fucking insane with the need to possess her. 

Especially with those blue eyes looking up at him, their gazes never parting as she began the steady up and down sucking on his hard cock. Each time she tried harder, went a bit deeper, until all except a couple of inches was buried in her hot mouth and throat. 

"Kirsty," he moaned as he fought for control. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? The way that those lips curled into an almost innocent smile around just the head of his cock told him that she knew exactly what she was doing...and liked it. 

One hand released its steely grip upon the wall and laced through her wet hair. He used it to control her movements, to set the pace that he knew would take him over...but not just yet. But as good as she was getting at this, and she was, it was not what he wanted. 

He let go of the wall and reluctantly drew her pretty face away from his cock. He held out his hand to her and whispered, "I want to take you like I did that first night in the shower."

He saw the play of emotions upon her face, the indecision was written there. It reminded him of the pain he too was inflicting on her. Damn, the woman could hide nothing in those intense blue eyes. "Please," he whispered.

She shook her head slowly as he watched tears, ones that he and not his brother put there, slip from the corner of those eyes. "I want that too," she whispered. She dropped her head and he had to strain to hear her next words over the pounding of the water. "But not like...not the way things are between us now."

When she lifted her head and their eyes met, he saw more tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered. As if it were actually her fault, as if he insecurities were her own. 

She forced that smile, the one that he hated more than anything because he knew it was a lie and they had promised there would be no lies between them. She reached out her hand and began to tenderly caress his still hard cock. "Please, just let me..." She bit her lower lip as she bent and licked the tip. 

He was a fool. A fucking fool. She was right, of course. This morning proved that. Was he really going to make it that easy for his brothers, especially Sven and his gods be damned need for a son? If she was going to take those risks, hell, wanted to even, then gods be damned let it be his...his baby. He shook his head as he drew her up from the cold tiles. "You win."

Her hand caressed his cheek, "No, I promised you time. I understand."

He laughed, even now, it was about him, about what he needed, how he felt. "Shut the fuck up and turn around. You know the position, sweetheart. But be fucking warned, that pretty little mouth of yours is too quick a learner. I am already on the edge. So as much as I want to go slow and show you everything I fucking feel for you, it ain't happening this time." 

"I am going to fuck your tight cunt hard and fast. Then I'm going to fill it with such a big load that it will be dripping down those soft thighs of yours the rest of the day." He heard the soft catch in her breath, knew that his dirty talk once more had her perched right on the edge. 

He did not wait for her obedience as he pushed her against the cool tiles. His hands went between her legs, forcing them apart as he shoved two fingers deep into her cunt. She started to come almost immediately, but that too was not how he wanted it. He withdrew his fingers before her orgasm could get going. He chuckled and slapped her ass at the whimper that tore from her throat. 

"You have become a greedy, spoiled little cunt, haven't you, my sweet wife? Tell me, Kirsty. Tell me what you fucking need. I want to hear every fucking dirty thing you want me to do to that sweet, tight pussy of yours." He knew he was upping this game. They might have discovered her little fetish for dirty talk, but in comparison her own language had been tame. He knew how hard this was for her...his good girl. 

He pressed his body fully against hers, rubbed his hard cock between the cheeks of her ass. "If you want to truly win this one, sweetheart, get me so fucking worked up with that sweet mouth, the same one that is learning too damned quickly how to suck my cock dry, use it to excite me in other ways, baby. Make me lose that control I have been trying so fucking hard to keep with you. Make me forget it all. Make me need to come in that fertile cunt of yours, make me, Kirsty."

With his chest pressed tightly to her back, he could feel what his dirty challenge was doing to her, how quickly she was breathing. He knew that he would find her so incredibly wet, that she would come immediately, even before he was fully inside of her. He toyed with those words, but he wanted, needed, this to be her choice. He would not use that level of persuasion on his sweet Freya. Not this time.

Neither would he let the tortured whimpers nor frantic movement of her hips against his hard cock sway him. "Damn it, Bjorn, fuck me. Fuck me hard and fast. Fuck me and fill me with your..." Her fingers clawed at the tiles and those whimpers turned into groans as she pushed back against him as hard as she could. "Please...fucking please...fuck me and fill with your jizz."

He cursed under his breath as he fisted his throbbing cock and slid it into her as gently as he could manage, which was not all that gentle. The word 'jizz' on his innocent little wife's lips was almost better than having those lips wrapped around his cock, especially when combined with the tight, wetness that welcomed and embraced it now. 

"Come for me, my sweet Freya," he commanded as he slammed deeply and frantically inside of her. He felt her muscles squeeze his cock so hard that for a moment he feared she would actually push him out, but he was having none of that. Not now, not when he was so fucking close to coming. He pushed his cock as deep and as hard in her as he could. He held it there as his teeth snack just as deeply and hard into the soft flesh where her shoulder met her neck. He held her there as he felt his control slipping. 

"Yes, damn it, yes, fucking come inside me, Bjorn. Fill me with your jizz. Your seed. Your baby," she screamed as she turned her head to the side, giving his teeth even better access to her soft flesh, offering herself up fully, completely, wholly to him. He could do no less in return as he felt his come boiling from deep inside of him, jetting into her. 

The water was fucking freezing as he came slowly back into his mind and body, but not even that could shrink his still hard cock that was buried in the furnace between her legs. His head rested against her back as he noticed the blood that trickled down her shoulder. He would feel guilty, but maybe that was exactly what they both needed, the reassurance of his mark upon her body. 

He reached around her for the body wash, his cock never leaving her cunt as he softly washed the wound. When he was finished, as certain as he could be that it would heal without becoming infected, he bent and placed a tender kiss upon it. But even that caused her to jump in his arms, "You have my word, sweetheart. I will be home, back to you, before this fades."

The smile that spread across her lovely face as she turned to her head and kissed him lightly was all the response he could ask for. "I'll hold you to that, my loving husband."

"If Mikael and I have to tie Sven up and throw him in the hold with the damned fish, you have my word, sweetheart."

His cock slipped from her wet folds as they both broke out in laughter at the image of his oldest brother sleeping among the dead fish that had always been his biggest passion. Though Bjorn feared that too might be changing. Question was...could they all come to terms with this new, old way of life...before they killed one another. 

***

Mikael was soaked, head to toe, as his daughter splashed happily in the bath and used her finger to draw in the shaving foam that covered the wall. He could almost recognize a flower in her art work, or he thought so any way. "Bath finished," he signed. He smiled as Monika shook her head side to side. She had come so fucking far in such a short time. Thanks to her. Thanks to Kirsty. 

It was he, who shook his head then. What was he going to do? There was no doubt, at least from his perspective, that Bjorn had definitely chosen the right woman. The way she had just stepped into his daughter's life stopped his heart sometimes. 'And how sweet her pussy tastes when you make her come all over your face has nothing to do with anything, right?' He cursed that voice in his head that was far too close to the truth for comfort. 

She had totally captured his baby brother's heart. The kid had it bad. Not that he could blame him. She was pretty special. But it was his older brother he was worried about. He was running. Hard and fast from whatever vice the woman had his nuts in. 

Not even his father had been able to change Sven's mind about this sudden and unexplained need to return to the sea weeks ahead of schedule. Mikael supposed he and Bjorn could simply refuse to go now, but he was not sure that even that would stop Sven now. His brother might simply pick up an extra hand or two for the trip...or worse yet, attempt it alone. No, his brother knew they were both too loyal to call his bluff. 

So first thing tomorrow morning they took to the sea once more. But he and Bjorn had discussed it, this was going to be a short trip. No more than one week, less if they could manage it. She did not deserve being left alone here with just their parents and his daughter, not this soon after bringing her here. She was still adjusting and that meant she should have one of them to share that huge bed every night.

Not that it was going to be him tonight, he sighed as he tried once more to persuade his princess that bath time was over, before she turned into a prune. No, he was certain that it was baby brother, whom she would want to hold and comfort her this night. And that was fine by him, he had his daughter to get to bed and then... 

Then what? Lay in bed thinking about how sweet her tight cunt tastes? Her soft, cries as she approached her orgasm. Her screams when it traverses her body, curling her toes and making her hips arch to meet his tongue. The way her juices flooded his mouth then, making him so damned hard that he was afraid his cock would split open the front of his jeans. 

Thinking about all those things until he could fight it no more and his hand wrapped around the little traitor, but not even when he came would he go soft. No, it was never enough, never satisfying. Maybe when they were made port in Amsterdam or Copenhagen, he would visit the red light district once more. Relieve this itch without any complications as he had been doing for over two years now.

'Except you know you fucking won't,' asserted that voice. 'You don't cheat on your wife. You never did, even when Greta turned you away, even when you knew she was screwing other men, even when she propositioned your own brothers, you remained faithful.' He cursed his damned conscious, because he knew it spoke the truth.

Besides if the truth be told, it was not some pro, whose services he wanted. He wanted his wife. He wanted to just fucking give in and sink his cock deep inside that tight hole that he had tasted on his lips, tongue and fingers. His cock was tired of missing out on all the fun, it wanted to feel that cunt wrapped tightly around it too. 

He bit back a virulent curse as he reached for the towel. What was he even doing thinking about it? He was sure that she and baby brother were already safely ensconced in that damned dungeon that passed for the bride's chamber in this fucked up family. And he had his little girl to get to bed, that was how it should be. 

Monika fought him as he tried to wrap the towel about her. But at least, she took his mind off of her...and all the things she might be doing with Bjorn behind those damned doors. He was still struggling to keep Monika in his arms as he opened the bathroom door. His daughter could be far stronger than her tiny frame looked. He frowned as he ran into something. Looking up, he saw the woman that had divided his attention from his responsibilities for the past half an hour. "Sorry," he muttered. "I was just giving Monika her bath before bed."

She nodded with a smile as she signed something to his daughter with a wink. "It's okay, I was just coming looking for the two of you. Thought you could show me her bedtime routine since..." she sighed as that smile disappeared. "Since it will be just me and the princess for a bit."

He shook his head once more, "I am sorry, Kirsty. You have to know we have all tried. I think even Mama gave it a shot, but Sven has always been stubborn."

She forced a smile as she looked up at him, "It will be fine. As he says, I have to get used to it sometime I guess. I mean I know that your parents will be here with us, but I just thought it may make things easier on her if we did this together tonight. Assuming you want me to take over some of the responsibilities from your parents?" she blushed.

"Of course, I mean you are great with her. I guess I just don't want you to feel like you have to do it all. Like I, we, are just dumping all this on you, and..." he knew he was stammering, but for the first time he realized how truly overwhelming all this must be for her. Especially this added responsibility of his child. "I mean, you don't have to you know. Mama and Papa usually manage all right when I am away."

"No, if you are okay with it, it will give me something to do. Hell, I might even end up sleeping in her room." She turned and smiled at his daughter, who even though she did not look at the woman, had ceased to struggle as much. "Will you let me, princess? If I promise to read you lots and lots of stories, can I stay in your room for a while?"

Mikael's felt the lump rising higher in his throat as she smiled at his daughter. "I'm sure she would like that, Kirsty. I was just about to get her ready now, but you really don't have to join us. I will leave written instructions. Have Mama or Papa walk you through it tomorrow night should be good enough. I don't want to keep you from Bjorn. He must be getting anxious already."

She chuckled and shook her head, "Silly man, will you ever get used to it?" She stood on her tip toes and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. Then those deep blue eyes stared right into his, "I choose you this night."

That lump grew to the size of a grapefruit. He gripped his daughter even tighter to keep from dropping her in shock. "But I thought..." he stammered. His voice was barely audible but then again he was surprised that any sound came out at all.

"Bjorn needed me last night." Her face scrunched up and her ears turned scarlet, "And Sven can go..." She smiled at Monika and shook her head, "Your brother is not welcome at all right now. So you are stuck with me tonight."

Stuck with her? Considering the happy dance his cock was doing in his jeans at the moment that was not the terms he would use for this unexpected turn of events. A part of him still wanted to argue. After all that had happened, considering how close her and baby brother had become, maybe he should insist that this final night for a while be spent with him. But he knew damned good and well that he was not that fucking noble...or that stupid. "It will be my pleasure," he whispered as they turned down the hall towards his daughter's bedroom.



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 11



Mikael observed them...his daughter and his wife. Kirsty knelt at the side of the bed with a Dr. Seuss book in hand. Her soft, British accent flowed over each rhyme as she alternated between reading and pointing out things in the pictures that accompanied the text. It was the fourth, or perhaps fifth book of the night. He had lost count.

It was not bad enough that he had two brothers to be jealous of, now he must contend with his own child. The way that his wife smiled, laughed and cared for his daughter wrapped about his heart just as he imagined that tight cunt would around his cock. While he, as much as Bjorn, hated to be leaving their wife just now, never since the first moment he had held his daughter had he felt more comfortable leaving her on one of these fishing trips. That told him all he needed to know.

'So what the fuck you going to do about it?' asked that irritating voice in his head. 

The damned thing had a point. If he had tried to use domination and sex to bind her closer to him, them, his child that first night without letting her behind his walls, what was he going to do now? And what of their truce? On one level, it was working better than he had ever hoped it might, especially for his little girl. 

Once he would have thought that was enough. It was after all the argument that Bjorn had used to convince him of his crazy scheme. And it honestly was just about perfect, he smiled as Kirsty closed the book. She signed 'sleep' once more as she stood up and walked towards him with a smile. Monika frowned and fidgeted a bit in her bed, but she did not get up, which was always a good sign. 

Damn, what was he going to do? Now that using his daughter as a shield wall to reinforce his defences was almost to an end, a long night alone with her in that bed loomed large. He knew what got his cock's vote. There was no question about what his little head wanted.

But it was his big one that still stood in the way. Logically, he knew that she was their wife. Theirs. Which meant she was as much his as she was Sven's or even Bjorn's. But that did not translate into the insecurities that still plagued him. If he had not been enough for Greta in a monogamous marriage, what chance did he stand against his 'pretty boy' baby brother, the man, who had chosen her and the one, who obviously already held her heart? 

While his cock might be satisfied if he gave into its damned demands to sink him deep inside that too sweet cunt, he knew that in the end even that would not be enough. He had already wasted years of his life loving a woman that had never really loved him...and he was not in an all-out competition with both his brothers for Greta's affection. 

It was not even a matter of what he wanted. It was more a matter of what his battered ego could sustain. Could he give into his feelings for this woman knowing that she might never return them the way he wanted? That she already loved another man, his own gods be damned brother, whose diapers he had fucking changed, who had tagged along after him everywhere he went, a man-child that he had spent a lifetime protecting.

"Do you stay with her until she falls asleep or do you leave her?" Mikael found it hard to concentrate on her words when her hand was covering his heart and her whole lush body leaning in towards his. Could she feel how fast it was pounding? How it skipped a beat occasionally when he imagined how it would feel without any clothes between them? 

He forced his sex-starved brain back from that futile line of thought and focused upon her question, "I leave her. I used to stay with her, but I think it probably makes things worse. I installed those a few months ago," he said pointing at a couple of small cameras suspended from the ceiling. "They feed to my laptop." He blushed a bit as he admitted to her something that no one else knew, "I keep it on most nights, just in case..." he stammered.

She smiled and reached up to brush a soft kiss across his cheek, "Then move it to my room before you leave, please."

He shook his head as he tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain that even such a simple touch could elicit. "No need, I can download the app to your tablet and you can use that. But you don't have to. She is fine most of the time. Sleeps through the night usually. If she does have a nightmare, trust me...you will know it. She wakes up screaming, but I don't know sometimes..."

"Sometimes what, Mikael?" she frowned.

He looked over at his little girl and noticed that she had turned away from them and was already beginning to settle a bit. He knew he hoovered, that he was over-protective. How many times had his father lectured him about it? But damn it, his daughter had it tough enough, anything, no matter how small or silly it might seem that he could do to make things easier, he would. 

But he never expected such things from others, not even his parents and certainly not a woman, whom they had kidnapped and forced into their fucked up world, their screwed up family and their petty jealousies. "Don't worry about it, Kirsty. It isn't important."

"No, tell me, please. If it is something that helps, something I can do too, let me try. Please." Did she press a bit closer to him or was it only wishful thinking?

"Sometimes if I notice on the cam that she is not sleeping well, I will get up and sit with her. I don't touch her, just sit on the floor next to her bed, just in case I guess. She usually quiets down in a few minutes. I guess I just like to think that maybe it makes a difference...keeps her nightmares away," he stammered as he stared at the floor. 

***

Kirsty felt something shift inside her. Maybe it had been happening since that first glimpse of him and Monika on board Ægir's Captive. Maybe it was the way he tagged so closely after her in the store or that look of fear when she tried to run into the road. It most definitely had the night they gave her that bath together. It had felt so much like she belonged, like the three of them were the perfect little family. 

Thinking on it, she wondered how she had not seen it sooner. Maybe it was the fact that this was so very different from the intensity that she shared with Bjorn. But that did not make it any less real. The truth was that she loved Mikael. Perhaps differently than she did Bjorn, but every bit as much. How could she not? Her bad boy could win father of the year. What woman could resist that combination? 

The questions now was...what was she going to do about it? How was she going to seduce this husband too? She stifled a giggle at the thought. Who would have ever imagined frumpy Kirsty

Dickens seducing one hot guy, let alone two? Whatever would her friends think it they knew? Of course, Roz might get a real laugh out of it, but she would demand all the raunchy details first. 

One thing was for certain...she was most definitely going to seduce Mikael. She was not letting him leave tomorrow morning without...

She fought back the lump in her throat that threatened to constrict her airway. It was a feeling she had been battling all day, a fear that would not abate. Whether it was Petrine's story of losing Lars or some intuition, but whatever it was, she was not going to risk it. It was not going to live with the regrets and pain that had rolled off her mother like a tidal wave of despair. 

So that brought her back to one question: how was she going to seduce this husband too? She did chuckle then. Why was it that she had to do the seducing with the ones she loved and the one that sent her blood boiling had no compunction about taking what he wanted?

"What is so funny now?" he asked in a whisper.

She smiled as she looked across the room where her 'daughter' was settling into bed. Yes, that too felt right. If she were going to commit to these men, to this unusual lifestyle, then she committed to all of it. And that included a very special little bonus that had wiggled her way into her heart from that first moment. What took her breath away was how natural and right it all felt, how fucking natural. 

She frowned. Well, most of it. Sven could still go screw himself. But she was not about to let the man ruin this night for her too. 

She stood on her tip toes and brushed a kiss on his cheek. She smiled at the way his beard tickled her nose, but she would far rather feel it abrading other parts of her anatomy at the moment. "We don't want to wake her. I'll tell you in bed," she whispered into his ear.

She heard the quick intake of breath, felt his whole body stiffen beneath her finger tips, perhaps she even detected a slight increase in the tempo of his heart through her fingertips. She smiled, so her 'bad boy' was not as unmoved by her as he wanted her to think. That bode well for the seduction she had planned this night. 

But his next words did not, "You know you don't have to. I mean I know that Bjorn..."

She was having none of his prevaricating though, she placed her fingertips over his mouth this time. "I meant what I said, Mikael. This night it is you I choose. So unless you are suggesting we include your brother in our little games, not another word." She leaned fully into him, "But personally, I would rather have you all to myself this time."

She pressed her body as tightly as she could against his and that smile widened as she felt his erection actually throb. With their little girl's back turned to them and her own body blocking the child's view, she could not resist the urge to tease 'daddy' just a bit more. Her fingers that had gone from heart to mouth now covered the front of his jeans, "Unless, of course, my bad boy needs the help."

"Kirsty, quit playing games," he growled low in the back of his throat. 

Her hand slipped into his then, "Who is playing anything, husband? I am trying my damnedest here to seduce you," she beamed up at him and she drew him out the door and closed it behind them.

But she was the one, whose head was spinning a moment later as she found her body slammed against the wall, his pressed so tightly against her that he blocked everything else from her view. "I mean it, Kirsty. What the fuck do you think you are doing? We have a truce. A truce that is working for my child. I won't screw that up, just to get inside that sweet, hot and too fucking tight cunt of yours."

She opened her mouth to reply but the words never made it out. Not before his tongue made it in. Wrapping about hers and sending those butterflies skittering into flight, just like her 'bad boy' always did. The kiss went on and on. She took up his challenge, pressing tighter against him as she fought to get her hands between their bodies. She lost that battle and had to console herself with her finger nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

By the time he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless. "No, Kirsty. I am not fucking this up for her. Not this time. Not you too. I can't..."

The pain behind his words touched something deep inside her soul. If she had come to love the father over the past few days, the man reached her then. A man that needed her to see past the words to the hurt behind them. A man that needed her love and healing. A man locked as tightly inside that pain as his daughter was in her little world. She needed to bridge that chasm for him as much as she needed to for their child.

As he pulled back, went to turn away, she stopped him. She reached out and laced her fingers tightly through his, "You won't, Mikael. You can't..." 

Her throat tightened so fucking much that her head swam as it tried to draw air into her lungs. She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. Her heart stopped. Full stop for several long heart beats. This might be the hardest decision she had ever made. Harder even than deciding to stay. As Petrine had said, 'sometimes the ones that were the hardest needed her love the most.' 

But giving that love, well, admitting it was a huge risk. With Mikael anyway. Bjorn had made it so easy. Hell, maybe too easy. But her 'bad boy' was locked so tightly behind his ice walls of pain and heart break. There was a very real chance that if she did this, he would only reject her out of hand. Push her even further away. Was it a risk she was willing to take? 

She chuckled as the words she had just read to Monika came to her mind, 'Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?' Who would have thought to turn to Dr. Seuss for marriage advice?

Yes, she must dare. She had no other choice as she tugged him back towards her. Her other hand caresses his cheek until he turned back to face her. She looked right into those icy grey eyes and jumped head long into the unknown, "It won't screw anything up, Mikael. It will only make things better. You have my word on that." 

He shook his head, "That's just it...you don't know that. You can't. Neither of us can. What if I lose control again? What if that darkness inside me ruins everything? No, it really is better this way. Go, run, and call little brother. He can give you what I can't."

"No, no, he can't. His love isn't yours and it is your love I want this night. I need tonight." She inhaled deeply and prayed to all the gods in heaven and Asgard for strength and courage. "I need to know that there is even the slimmest possibility that one day you might love me the way I do you. Not because I am good with her either, but because you want me...want me as a woman..."

She was the one that dropped his gaze then. If she thought getting naked with them was hard, it was nothing compared to this. And the fact that the damned silence seemed to stretch for all fucking eternity just then was not fucking helping either. The idea of running, fleeing to her room and locking the door behind her, throwing herself in the middle of that big bed and just crying her eyes out raged through her befuddled mind. 

She pushed against his chest, made to do just that, until a steely hand about her arm stopped her, "Where the fuck you think you are going, Kirsty? Think you can drop that little mind fuck on me and then go hide? It don't work like that, sweet wife. Get your cute ass in that bedroom. The hall is no place for this gods be damned conversation."

She swallowed hard as she lifted her head to face him. His countenance gave nothing away and that made her want to run even more. But instead she simply nodded and whispered, "Yes, Sir" as he led her to the heavy closed door that she felt would seal her doom like a crept. 

When she heard it close behind them, she drew in a deep breath and tried to prepare herself for whatever was to come. But she knew one thing...his rejection was going to hurt her far more than Raj's had. She cursed herself for being so rash. She should not have said it. She should have waited. Given him more time. Given them more time. Perhaps seduced him first...well, she did not have to worry about that now.

She trembled as she felt herself losing the battle against those unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Mikael. I should not have..." she forced the words past that lump which had grown like a snow ball into an avalanche of insecurities that threatened to wipe out everything in its path. 

One word echoed off the dark walls of that dungeon. It was low, harsh and guttural, "Strip."

***

Mikael inhaled, fought back the need to push her, to take her even. He waited. And waited for several long heart beats for the answer that he could not even hear when it came. Only the slight nod of her head and her trembling fingers reaching for the edge of her jumper were the real response. 

He was across the room in a moment. His fingers covered hers as he watched the nervous play of emotions of her face. He helped her to lift it over her head and smiled at the pale pink lace confection beneath it. His fingers ran along the edge of it, outlining her breasts that heaved up and down just a bit faster at his touch. "Get this off now or I will cut the damned thing off."

Her eyes were huge as she looked up at him. Those lips that he wanted to taste again more than he wanted to breathe formed a perfect 'O' at his words. He saw it in her eyes. Rather than frighten her, his threat excited her. "You want that, don't you? You want to feel my knife tonight? You want me to run it across this fucking soft creamy skin until it leaves a trail of faint pink lines like a fucking map."

Her chest heaved even more rapidly at his challenge and once more her head nodded silently, "Not good enough, sweet heart. Say it. Tell me you want to feel your bad boy's knife against your hot skin. Tell me what you want...all of it."

She dropped her eyes and her cheeks flamed a bright red. For a long moment, he feared that he had pushed her too far. Then she inhaled deeply and placed that tiny hand over his heart once more as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed the softest kiss against his lips. She drew back slowly, just enough to look into his eyes as she whispered.

"First, Mikael, you are overdressed. You aren't the only one that wants to feel skin. Please," the way that her throat moved up and down as she spoke told him as much as her words. 

"Out of the damned skirt, but leave on the bra and panties. Then get to work on the buttons, because they won't undo themselves, Kirsty," he said as he pressed her hand tighter over his heart for a moment. 

She nodded her head, blushed even pinker and smiled as she began to push the flowing skirt down her legs. When it pooled at her bare feet, she looked up at him, "Knickers? Sorry, but you told me that first night I was not allowed them anymore."

He worked hard to suck enough air into his lungs at the sight of his wife's bare cunt glistening in the dim light. "Good girl for remembering."

Then even that tiny bit of oxygen fled as she stepped closer and brought those shaking fingers to his chest once more. Her eyes met his as she whispered, "Always, Sir," as the first button sprang free. She leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his skin just above his heart. 

His hands fisted at his side as he fought back the urge to rip the damned thing off himself as she repeated the process with next one...and next. By the time that she reached the waistband of his jeans they were so fucking tight that he knew those shaky fingers would never be able to pull the shirt free so he did it himself and ripped the last button as he tossed the damned thing across the room. 

He practically tore the button on his jean off as well in attempt to get at least a bit relief for his aching cock. Her eyes grew even wider, but it was the way that her sweet tongue caressed along her bottom lip that was almost his undoing. "Don't do that, Kirsty," he groaned.

"Do what?" she whispered as she took a step forward. When her hand came up between them this time, it scorched the bare skin as it rested once more right over his heart. If that was not bad enough, those fucking lips that were glistening and still just slightly damp pressed a soft kiss just above her hand. 

"That...look at me like that. Like you could fucking eat me alive. Like you want me buried between those sweet thighs half as much as I want to be there. Damn it, woman, you are driving me insane here. Don't you know how fucking hard I am trying not to lose control here?" he battled to keep his hands fisted at his side even though it wanted nothing more than to rip open that damned zipper, shove her back onto the bed and bury himself so fucking deep inside of her. 

"What if I said I don't want your control? What if I want my bad boy? What if like you said I need to feel your rope, your knife, all of it? Please Mikael...don't fucking stop this time." He saw her eyes glisten in the faint light as she dropped her head, he leaned in to hear words that seemed torn from her throat as violently as he had torn his shirt, "Please, I couldn't..." she stammered as her hand moved slowly across his chest. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 11



"Please, what, sweetheart?" He gave up on keeping his hands fisted at his side and instead gripped her arms and drew her tighter against his body. This time he wanted her to feel what she was doing to him, all of it, as he ground his hips slowly against hers.

Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she moaned at the intimate contact. "Please, Mikael, don't tease me like that. Please I can't take it if you push me away again...reject me."

His heart stopped at her words, "Oh baby, I have never rejected you. Never. I have always fucking done my best to make sure you got what you wanted. Don't you know that? Couldn't you see that?"

She shook her head and opened those intense blue eyes that could never lie, "No, you never gave me what I want most, Mikael. I want you." 

Her words hit him like a sledge hammer right in the heart that she had been caressing all fucking night. The blow did not knock just the air from his lungs but they cut his knees out from under him as he shoved her back onto the bed, fell almost on top of her. He cursed himself for the fool that he was, if not that first night on the boat then certainly the first one in this bed with her. Why had he fucking fought her then when her surrender was as plain in those blue depths as it was right now? 

"Jag är ledsen. I am sorry, Kirsty," he leaned his forehead against hers. He was not even sure what to say or do then. How did you tell your wife that she scared the fuck out of you? Made you want things that you had given up on ever having? That you were so fucking scared to even try, because you knew if she rejected you... How did you fucking say any of that?

***

Kirsty saw the battle raging inside of him. It was not the first time that she had felt someone's pain. Hell, she had been doing it most of her life. Especially with them. But never had she felt anything as intense as this. It stole her breath and broke her heart. 

She shook her head and pressed her finger over his lips, "You don't have to say it, Mikael. You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand...honest, I do." She lifted her head and buried it against his throat. She could actually hear the pounding of his heart with her ear resting there as her arms wrapped about him. 

She pressed a soft kiss over his pulse that tapping out that loud, fast beat beneath her lips. That kiss became a trail of them along the vein in his throat as her hands began to map a trail across his shoulders and back drawing him closer, holding him tightly to her. "Show me. Show me, Mikael. Please..."

She felt his hand move between them. His fingers press against her mound and she opened her legs. Spread them wide in welcome for him. She needed him to know that he would always would be...welcome inside her. Free to take what he needed, when he needed it. "Yes," she whimpered as she felt his fingers brush against her clitoris.

But that whimper became a full-fledged moan when his fingers slipped lower, found her wet cunt and slipped inside. She lifted her hips to draw him deeper as she cried out with her first orgasm. Her fingers clutched tighter to his shoulder. Her nails sank into his bare skin as the pleasure rolled over her and over her in one long wave after another. 

But it was not enough. Not with him. He had done this before. Taken her this far, only to pull away. She was afraid he would again. She buried her face against his throat again as she moaned, "Please, Mikael, that isn't what I need. Not now...not tonight. Not with you...Please," she pleaded with him not to reject her again.

"Then what do you fucking need, my sweet wife? What do you want from me?" he challenged as his plunged his fingers deeper and faster inside of her. Her whole body arched off the bed to meet his demanding thrusts. 

"You. I fucking need you. Inside me. Not your god damned fingers..."

"Me?" she could hear the teasing in his voice as he too buried his face in her neck as he mirrored her actions, licking softly at the same vein she had chosen on him. "You have me right now, sweetheart. What is it you really want then?"

She stilled beneath him. Drew her head back from his neck and waited until he did the same. Her eyes met his that now twinkled more heated silver than steely grey with passion. "Fuck me, Mikael. Quit playing these mind games and fuck me," she almost demanded. 

For a moment she feared that he was going to deny her once again as he drew back even further in her embrace. His shoulders almost slipped from her finger tips and all she could do was whimper a soft plea. 

His fingers too slipped from her body and she felt incredibly empty...and more scared than she could ever remember being even on all those lonely nights when her mother had denied her even the comfort of a night line and closed her bedroom door with a solid reprimand, 'good girls don't need night lights.' Did they need their husbands? She was certain that her mother would say 'no' but she did. She needed him, just as much as she needed Bjorn. And if he...

Then she heard a soft rasp, but before she could even place the meaning of that sound, he was back. Filling her, deeper more completely than he ever had. Her head sank deep into the mattress as she planted her feet firmly on the edge of the bed and pushed up with all her might to take him deeper still inside of her. 

"Fuck," he cursed as his hands tightened painfully on her hips. "Don't fucking move. Don't move, Kirsty," she watched the almost pained expression on his face.

But she could not stop herself as she began to slowly move her hips in a circle that one moment forced his cock incredibly fucking deep inside her and the next left only the very head wedged between her wet folds. "Don't move? Are you sure, Sir?" she teased.

His hand came down hard on her outer thigh but that only made her press more tightly against him as she felt her body spiralling out of control once more. She cried out as the powerful release hit her hard, making her see stars until she feared that she might actually float away into them. 

But his body moved in perfect time to the contractions of her body drawing her back as her orgasm went on and on. She was not capable of coherent thought, let alone speech so she let her body and the mindless jumble of moans and groans do the talking for her. 

She felt him drive incredibly deep until those stars exploded into the sun itself as her hands clutched tighter to his shoulders. She felt his whole body tremble in time with hers as he joined her in the beautiful music of their mutual pleasure. It was an intense and moving piece that left her almost breathless as she collapsed into the billowy softness of the bed. 

Just when she would have drawn him closer, closed her eyes and drifted into an orgasm induced dream, she felt him begin the song again. Her eyes opened to the rather smug smile as he bent and kissed her softly, "That was not fair. But don't worry, sweetheart. This night is just getting started. You see, my darling innocent, women aren't the only ones that can be multi-orgasmic."

She sucked in her breath at the devilish look in those silvery depths. "Yes, Sir," she whispered, suddenly very much awake and alert. "Someone did mention something about his knife, if I remember correctly."

***

Mikael chuckled as he slapped her hip. "But we keep it light. Do you understand me? I am not having you drop without me around to catch you and care for you. Understood?"

She smiled, "So what? You're threatening me with vanilla sex or something?"

"Be good, woman. Trust me I can find ways of punishing you that do not involve pain," he saw the shadow that crossed her face at his threat. "Let me guess...standing in the corner? My brother's high protocol shit."

She sighed as she nodded her head, "Naked, of course. That's what makes it so bad actually."

"Why? Why does naked make it so bad, elskling?"

She blushed, "Why do you think? I'm not exactly model material here. I am too tall for a girl, but that is the least of it. I am a ginger, covered in freckles from head to toe. I have thunder thighs, a big butt and let's not even talk about my tummy. And you are so...hot."

He could hear the way her voice cracked over each word. "I like playing connect the dots with those freckles. If you insist on talking about what you think are negatives, let us not forget the positives, lilla gumman. You have the most amazing eyes, an honest face and a heart big enough to love us all so fucking easily." 

He watched as that blush deepened. She dropped her eyes and her fingers once more began to toy at the flesh just over his heart. She really did not see it, he realized. She had no idea how beautiful she truly was. How she had wrapped herself so fucking quickly, so fucking effortlessly around that heart. Around his baby brother's. Around his daughter's...and his parents. Hell, if what he suspected was true, she had even managed to melt his eldest brother's, who he had always thought was as cold as the seas they fished. 

"You really don't see how beautiful you are, do you?" he asked as he turned her head back to face him. "Then I am going to tell you," he moved slowly deeper inside her and watched how quickly that expression turned from one of self-doubt to pure need and lust, "and show you."

"Head to toes or work my way up?" he teased and was rewarded as her cheeks reddened even more. He kissed those blushing cheeks, "Heads, it is then." He ran his fingers through her thick ginger tresses. "Your hair...I like the ginger as you call it. And how can anything be so fucking soft and yet strong enough no matter how hard I pull?" He buried his face and inhaled deeply. He frowned as the scent hit him, "My wash...your hair smells like my body wash?"

She nodded and bit that adorable bottom lip. He reminded himself he would have to not forget that one too. He smiled, this could take all fucking night. "Sorry...it is just..." she stammered and stopped as those eyes once more looked down.

"Just what, Kirsty?" he demanded.

"Bjorn said he did not order me any of my own because he did not want me smelling all girly. That he preferred when I smelled like him." She bit that lips until it turned almost white, "But I figured...I guess I thought if I were coming to you...I mean if you were sharing my bed tonight...I thought you would rather me smell like you."

"Fuck," Mikael spat as his cock throbbed inside her at the stammered words. He could not resist as he began to move harder and deeper inside her. "Damned straight, I do. And fuck, baby brother and I need to have a long talk while we are gone, because damn if I don't like some of his ideas." 

His grip in her hair tightened as he pushed deep inside her, he felt her body begin to tremble, knew he was about to push her over that edge again, but that was what he wanted...almost as much as he wanted to be the one to catch her when she fell. He plunged harder and deeper inside of her, pushing her to another shattering orgasm that stretched on for several minutes. 

When she finally did begin to drift back to him, he slowly moved and flexed inside of her. Not enough to send her over again, just enough to keep her there on the edge of that precipice. He kissed her cheeks, "I love the way you blush. Whether it is in embarrassment at all the incredibly naughty things we do and say or how red you get when you come, I love these cheeks when they get pink." He moved just the tiniest bit faster inside of her, "Not that I don't love how red I can make your other cheeks with my hand, or belt, or the tawse." 

The way that she sucked in her breathe and her body gripped his cock even tighter told him all that he needed to know about how she felt about those. "But remember, dear wife, tonight is plain old vanilla sex."

She whimpered and he smiled as he kissed her lips. He meant to keep it light, honest he did. But how could he with his cock buried in her wet cunt and those sweet sounds coming from the back of her throat? The look in her eyes was a mix of excitement and disappointment that made him chuckle as he kissed her eyelids. 

He shook his head, "Those fucking eyes. They show every damned thought and especially everything you feel. How could I have been so fucking stupid not to see it last time?" He inhaled and brushed another kiss over them, "That's wrong...I did see. I saw your surrender that night and it scared me so fucking much that I had to push you away, had to push you harder and further than I should have. Jag är ledsen for that too."

She shook her head, "No need, I understand."

His chest tightened, because once more the truth was plain to see...she really did understand. "Fuck, woman, you make this hard," he teased her with his words and his cock as he increased the tempo.

"Make what hard?" She looked up at him as her fingers clutched tighter at his shoulders. "The only thing I want to make hard right now is you, Mikael. Just you."

Fuck, how did she know, he asked himself. How could she possibly know the exact words that would excite as no others ever could? "Damn it, Kirsty, I wanted this to be about you...and when you say shit like that I can't fucking put two damned words together," he cursed as he fought for control of his body...and hers.

She arched upwards off of the bed to meet his downwards thrust. He felt her whole body tense just a split second before her cunt tightened so hard around his cock that he swore he saw stars. He was incredibly glad then that she did not like those damned long nails like Greta had or she would have torn his back to shreds. As it was even her shorter nails were making the sadist wonder if he did not have just a touch of masochism. 

"Then shut the fuck up and show me. Show me instead of telling me, Mikael," she pleaded.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaled his own scent upon her as he increased the tempo, pushing her a bit higher and him a bit deeper into the depths of Helveti, because not even Asgard could be half as fucking sweet as her cunt milking his cock as orgasm after orgasm rolled over her. 

How could be possibly deny such a sweet request? He began to move faster and deeper inside of her then. Pushing them both towards what they needed. His hands on her hips tightened until he feared that she would wear finger shaped bruises on them for days...and that idea excited him as much as the knowledge that his back was going to be mapped with hers. 

In the end, he was damned glad that first orgasm had taken the edge off, because he managed to last far longer than he would have thought humanly possible. Then again maybe it was not humanly possible, a prayer to the goddess of love and fertility passed his lips in thanks, "My sweet Freya," he groaned...and he lost the battle and won the war when she screamed in a release so powerful that he swore they would both die and he did not give a fuck just then.

It went on and on for several long moments then. Until they both collapsed into the soft welcome of the mattress. He wanted to roll enough to take his weight off of her, but he honestly could not move at that moment. Every single muscles and bone in his body had turned to jelly. It took him several long moments just to find the strength to turn his head and smile at her, "What the fuck was that?"

He loved the smile that lit her beauty from within as her fingers began to trace the pattern of red welts that were still raising across his shoulders. "You really do need to have a talk with your brother." He hated the way that her face darkened just then as she shook her head, "The good one."

He shook his head at her words and the pain that they spoke. How could she, who had seen through all his walls, not see it? How could she not know the real reason that Sven was acting as he was? But he was more convinced in that moment than he had ever been that he was right...his older brother loved her just as much as he and Bjorn did. And that above all else scared Sven like nothing, not even losing Ægir's Captive could. 

He sighed. It would be pointless right now to try and make her see that...perhaps even Bjorn, but maybe, just maybe, he could be the bridge that Sven needed. Back to them...just as she had been for him. It looked like he had two brothers to talk to about their amazing wife. And a few gods and goddesses...especially Freya, to thank for this special woman. 

"Get some sleep, woman. I promise you, you are going to fucking need it," he said as he forced himself to use what little strength was returning to his body to roll, taking her with him so that her head rested on his chest. Her head rested just under his chin and he smiled as he closed his eyes at the smell of her hair. He definitely had a couple of things to talk to Bjorn about. 

***

Kirsty drifted in and out of slumber as she lay draped across his body, her head resting on his chest, just listening to his heart beat. It was a bit slower now, but still faster than it should be after four rounds of love making...or was it five. She chuckled as she realized that she had lost count. 

"What's so funny, lilla gumman?" she smiled as she felt the rumble in his chest as she slid against his body when she lifted her head just enough to look up into those silvery depths. 

"What is lilla gumman? What does it mean?"

He frowned, "Little girl, little woman, I think you would say." His hand brushed her hair back from her face, tucked it behind her shoulder. He frowned then as his eyes transformed to that steel grey, his face going dark as his fingers outlined Bjorn's teeth marks on her neck. She could not stop the slight flinch of pain at even his light touch. "I'll bet him to a pulp," he swore.

She chuckled, "You'd be beating the wrong brother too I bet?"

His forehead creased as his frown deepened, "What? Bjorn did that? What the fuck?"

She reached for his hand that rested on her shoulder near the mark, "Do not get puritanical on me, Mikael? Are you forgetting you cut me and drank my blood that first night on the ship?" She smiled as she watched his cock harden at the reminder...even after...who cared how fucking many. "If you must know, it was his promise to me. He gave me his word that you would be home before his mark faded from my body."

He smiled and shook his head, "Damn it, I am coming to like that little brat more and more, woman." His face darkened just a bit again, but this time she saw that his eyes were back to silver rather that steely grey. "He might have another good idea there," he said as he rolled over with her still tight in his arms. He reached for his jeans that had been discarded on the floor next to the bed somewhere during round three she thought it was. It took him a moment to find whatever he was looking for since he was only using one hand, the other arm still wrapped tightly about her waist.

Her breath caught in her throat as she caught the glint of the low light on the steel of his knife blade. "I think I did promise you something, did I not, elskling?" She was so speechless she could only nod in response. 

"Do I need the rope or can I trust you to be completely still, Kirsty?" he asked as the cold metal began to caress along her cheek and down the side of her neck. He paused and ran the blade around his brother's very dark bruises there. This time she bit down on her lower lip at the twinge of pain the increased pressure caused and the equally strong flood of need and heat that was centered between her legs. 

"Please, Mikael," she whimpered. 

"Please what, my sweet wife? What do you need?" he sighed heavily. "Our time is almost up, sweetheart. Choose...a quickie...or my promise, my mark to join my brother's? Either way you have my word as well. We will be back. Soon."

As much as she wanted to feel his hard cock inside her again, it was a surprisingly easy choice. "Cut me. Mark me. Make me yours," she whispered as she looked into those silvery pools that suddenly boiled and bubbled. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 11



He sighed, "Hands above your head, sweetheart." He bent and kissed her. Slow and sweet but full of all the heat that had raged between them that night. Then she felt his knife moving lower still. Across her shoulder and down her chest. He leaned back and both their eyes were glued to the steel grey against her pale skin. He did then as he had teased her, playing connect the dots with several of the light brown freckles that peppered her chest.

"Do you mean it?" the sound was so low as if torn from his soul that she looked into his eyes. 

She shook her head in confusion, "Mean what, Mikael?"

"Mark you? Make you mine? I can you know. Make the wound so deep that it will scar. That it will never fade. Did you want that, Kirsty? To truly be mine...forever?" 

Her breath froze in her lungs at the pain...and the need that she saw in those eyes. She knew that the answer to that question meant far more to this man than even he could admit. And she knew too the answer. Not just because he needed it, but because she wanted it. Wanted him. Just as much as she wanted Bjorn. 

"Yes, Sir." She frowned, that was not right. This was more than submission, more than games, this was love and relationships and promises. Building a relationship...a future for them...all of them. "Yes, Mikael, I want that. I want you."

He sighed low and long. That sexy smile spread across his face, the one that she did not see nearly often enough. "Hands above your head then. Do not move." 

She nodded and steeled herself. No matter the pain, she would not disappoint him. It was ironic...she hated needles. She always had. But something inside had from that first moment on the boat craved this with him...wanted the feel of his blade on her skin. Even more so than now.

As she did on those rare occasions when she had blood draw, she watched as he moved the blade over her left breast. His eyes caught and held hers for a moment, "One the count of three, elskling. One." She nodded her head and braced herself. "Two," she inhaled and held her breath as his eyes returned once more to the knife and the blade. Hers followed suit.

"Three," the pain was sharp and searing as he pressed the knife far deeper than he had last time. This time she knew it was not merely the skin that he broke, but the muscle and tissue beneath. But still she did not move. Instead she stared in fascination as her dark red blood ran down her skin. 

It was over far faster than she would have thought possible. Then his dark blonde head bent and as he had before his tongue lapped at her blood. As intimate as it always was when he or his brothers buried their heads between her legs and licked her there, it was nothing compared to this. She had read more than a couple vampire romances as well as her penchant for the BDSM and poly ones, but the reality of this man she loved drinking her blood was even hotter than she had gotten then. 

She moaned at the feel of his hot tongue against her skin but when his mouth actually covered the fresh wound and sucked the blood from it, she could almost feel her body tense. Her arms dropped from above her head then, her hands encircled his head and held her lover, her husband to her breast as he drank the very life force from her body. 

His mouth never left her breast, but as if he could feel how fucking tightly she was wound then, he stopped sucking just long enough to whisper, "My sweet Freya." Her mind was beyond the complexities of how this whole orgasm conditioning shit worked. How he could trigger her when it was Bjorn who had trained her? She did not fucking care all she felt was the power of it as her whole body trembled and shook as she reached for the stars.

His head was once more sucking the blood from his wound as his fingers moved between her open thighs, slipped inside her and augmented her orgasm that was already on the edge of too fucking intense. Within seconds, her body answered his demands as she felt liquid gush around his fingers, wetting the sheet beneath them. Not that she gave a fuck.

Especially when the pleasure took on an edge of pain like a period cramp. It was strange...the orgasm still felt good, maybe even better. But the cramping was as intense as anything she had ever experienced...more so. Until as it always did the pain mixed with the pleasure and her body gave into all that the experience was. As it went on and on until she cried out and collapsed once more against the bed.

Still he lapped softly as remnants of blood that appeared periodically. She looked down and watched as his tongue traced the mark that he had made on her tit. Much like a child would lick at a melting ice cream cone, savouring its sweetness. She smiled at the letter 'M' that appeared pink and red against her white skin. 

"M for Mikael," she chuckled as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

He reluctantly lifted his head and bent to kiss her. If she had been intrigued of the taste of her pussy on their lips after they had eaten her, she could find no words to describe the coopery sweetness of her blood on his lips and tongue. This kiss was as intimate and unforgettable as the man. 

When he at last broke it, his lips releasing hers from captivity, he smiled, but it was a weak one this time, "Yes, or mitt, min, even your English mine. Whichever you prefer." He sighed heavily, "But now I must dress it, see that it is clean and will heal properly. Then I must go. Join my brothers. Just know that while this one will not fade as Bjorn's will, my word to you is just as lasting as my mark on your body. We will be home...soon. You have my promise on that too."

She laughed, "What you going to help Bjorn tie Sven up and throw him in with the fish too?"

He laughed, "Damn, I am liking my baby brother more and more. Good thing, I did not strangle him when he kept pestering me, no?"



Ægir’s Bride Ch. 12



This was the hard part. It always was. Since the moment, his daughter had been born at least. Mikael hated the 'good-byes' that came with this job. But this morning, he had more reason than ever to hate them. Watching as she tucked the blanket about Monika, he drew them both tighter into his embrace as if he could memorize the feel of them against his body. His wife and his child. He frowned. 

Fuck! His children? Damn it, the thought had not even occurred to him last night. As much as he had promised himself he would not, he had entered the 'sperm wars' with his brother. As much as he loved her, and he knew he did, even if he could not yet bring himself to say those words to her, this one still bothered him. 

A part of him had always wondered, been concerned that he was somehow to blame for Monika's condition. And the couple of articles that he had read online when he started researching autism after learning of Kirsty's job, the ones that postulated a link to genetics and in particular to the father, they still ate away at what might otherwise be happiness. 

He knew she loved Monika. For the first time since his daughter began acting different, he was confident too that together they would find a way to reach her. Hell, they already were. But what if? He did not, could not even go there. Not now. Not with this gods be damned surprise trip already looming over him. But he knew too, it was something he needed to think about. Perhaps even something they should talk about, she of all people would know more. 

And if? As much as he loved his daughter...as he loved her...was he prepared to vacate the field? To simply welcome nephews and nieces...to never share that physical bond with her? He remembered how beautiful Greta had been when she carried Monika. Even before, how hot the thought of Kirsty's body ripening with a child...even if it was not his, had made him. 

He smiled, perhaps he should add pregnant and lactating women to his fucking fetish list. Thinking of how ripe her tits would get as her tummy grew larger and larger, he felt his cock harden. How the fuck was that even possible after last night and this morning? But it did. Yes, he definitely had to add that to his fetish list. 

He would have a few days to play it all over in his head. Come to a decision, perhaps do a bit more research. But right now, he had something else to do as he stopped their little band. Their little family just inside the tree range that partially blocked the view from the boat. 

"Why are we stopping here?" she asked as he turned her in his arms.

"We say our farewells here, elskling. Baby brother is having enough trouble with the jealousies that he never saw our fathers fight through. And you look enough like a woman, who had been well-loved all night as it is. I will not make this harder for him by hearing what I have to say to you now," he said as he bent and brushed a kiss over her lips. 

He sighed as her free hand came up to caress his beard, he might have found another damned one to add to that list. Fuck it, she was his biggest fetish. "I have said this before... Jag är ledsen, I am sorry. We had agreed to give you more time before we went to sea. And I know you do not want to hear this, but my brother is just running scared."

He turned his face into that hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "If you had the patience and wisdom to see through my walls, I am pleading with you find that to give to Sven too. What you see as rejecting you, I understand as the fear that it is, elskling."

He ran his fingers across the corner of the pure white bandage that covered his mark upon her. "Just as this is my promise to you, know that I will do all in my power to help him see that. To know that lov..." He stuttered over those words. He had been so fucking determined not to use them. Not yet. But what other words were there? What could even come close to what they had shared?

He sighed as he shook his head in surrender, "That loving you is worth the risk."

She nodded her head as those blue eyes clouded over once more, "I will try. That is all I can promise. It is just that..." She stammered as she jostled his daughter, their daughter on her hip. "Just that I could always see glimpses with you. When you were with her, when the bad boy fell away. I could almost see your pain hanging like a cloud over you."

He saw a tear trail down her cheek, "He won't let me in. I tried. Honest, I did. He just won't bend." Her voice was thick as he brushed the tear away. 

He drew them closer and placed a kiss on their heads. First his little girl's light brown curls then her waves of flames. "Take care of her...and of you. No dropping. If you feel at all low, teary, go to Mama. She knows how to handle things. She will listen, make you her teas and probably feed you another of those trashy romance novels that the two of you seem to like so damned much."

She chuckled, "I would not knock those damned books if I were you. They got me interested in kink," her cheeks flamed that tell-tale scarlet as she stammered, "A few of them even got me hot for the idea of brothers."

His mouth dropped open in shock, "Holy fuck! You're joking right?" His shock was so genuine that he had been unable to even filter his language in front of his child. Who would have thought that women's romances could be so erotic?

She shook her head, "Nope, you ought to see a couple of the chapters in Raquel Graffen's books. She may not use words as dirty as you do, but the meaning is the same." She stood on tip toes as she whispered so that his daughter did not hear, "Chapter 10 of My Brother's Keeper, if you dare. I think you might find the menage action in that one quite erotic. And if you are talking to Bjorn anyway..." her voice trailed off as she drew back with an unusual smile on her face.

Had his wife just suggested what he thought she was? Sure, they all knew that eventually their marriage included that kind of sharing too. But that was down the line, once things were more settled. They were more secure in things... Was Kirsty actually suggesting that she was ready for that already? 

He did not have the time to ask as Monika began to fidget and his parents appeared from behind him. Damn, did he have lots to think about on this trip. A few days might not be enough for him either. Especially to come to terms with the idea of watching his bratty baby brother make love to the woman he loved. They loved, he corrected himself. They all loved, he added as they broke through the trees into the clearing. 

One look at his brothers' faces told him, this trip was not going to be a pleasant one. Which of his brothers was in a more foul mood he could not be certain? And though he understood how both of them felt, even though he shared Bjorn's jealousy and had known first hand Sven's fear, still he could not help but smile with her arm wrapped tightly about his waist and his daughter cradled in her arms. 

***

Bjorn scowled as the small band cleared the trees. Seeing the woman, who had born, educated and raised him, on the arm of his uncle was an all too real reminder that nothing he thought he knew was real. But the sight of his brother with his arm wrapped so protectively around the woman he had chosen, the one he loved, his wife was even worse. 

The deepest pain though was the look on her face. He knew that fucking look. He had seen it before...when she looked at him. The fact that it was his brother on the receiving end of it this time felt like a bad vampire movie where they ripped the beating heart from the creature, yet still it lived. That was how he felt in that moment...dead inside, ice cold and full of rage. 

The smug look on his eldest brother's face as they finished storing away supplies for this trip only made things worse. Salt in the wound was too mild a comparison...rubbing alcohol was more accurate. "Short trip? Sure you do not wish to keep him from her for longer?" Sven goaded the bull. 

Bjorn dropped the tool box that he was carrying...on his brother's foot. "Sorry about that," he half smiled. 

Sven cried out on pain and stared at him with both hands fisted at his side. But the group was on board the ship before his brother could say or do anything. Both their attention were drawn to her. Bjorn swore under his breath. If what he had seen as they came out of the woods was not bad enough, she fucking glowed with their niece in her arms and their brother wrapped like a security blanket about both of them. 

"You are late," his eldest brother rebuked Mikael. But the man was having none of it, as he ignored the remark and kissed his daughter. Bjorn knew that leaving the child always tore him up. He supposed he should be glad, they all should be, that this time at least she had Kirsty. 

When his brother turned and kissed their wife, Bjorn wished he had not been so rash with the tool box. Mikael made a much better target than Sven. He strained to hear the exchange between them, but only caught "Remember what I said."

She bit her lower lip and tried to smile as she nodded, "Yes, Sir. I will try."

"That's my good girl," this time it was Bjorn, whose hands were enclosed in fists at his side as he fought for control. 

Then she handed his niece to her father and turned to him. She stepped away from Mikael and Monika as Olaf went to find Sven and his mother said something to his brother. He swallowed the lump that threatened to cut off his airway as she stepped closer to him. She stopped just in front of him. Her hand reached for his as she laced her fingers through his and gave him a gentle squeeze. 

"Promise me that you will be careful, please?" he saw the tears that she was fighting back just then and his heart melted a bit, the anger and tension drained away just a bit. How could he possibly be upset? Not with her anyway. 

And with his brother? How could he begrudge Mikael any happiness and comfort that she might offer him after all he had been through? He felt like a truly selfish bastard at the moment, but he could not deny he was still jealous, just a bit anyway.

"I promise," he replied as he brushed the hair back from her face as the wind whipped it about them. He reached up to draw her coat closed tighter about her, when he noticed the white bandage peeking from beneath the edge of her top. He frowned, "You had an accident? What happened? Are you okay?"

She laughed and shook her head, "I am just fine. It was no accident at all. And do you really want to know?"

He frowned and exhaled loudly. He could guess. Hell, there was no need to guess. His brother's gods be damned knife. "I kill him," he whispered.

"No, no, you won't. It is a little thing called consent...and he had mine. Just as much as you always do." She sighed as she stepped closer. Her hand came up to caress his cheek lightly as she turned his gaze back from glaring at his brother's back to her.  

Those blue eyes shone with love...and it was him she was looking at now. "I know this is not easy for you. Hell, it is not easy for me either." She shook her head as she continued, "The idea of loving three men might seem hot when Raquel Graffen writes about, but the reality is much fucking harder. Each of you are so different."

She pressed against him and held his gaze as she brushed her lips against his, "And how I love you is different too. Yes, I know you may not want to hear that, especially right now. But, my love, you need to." 

She kissed him softly, tenderly and slowly this time. "You need to know this too. How I feel for Mikael does not in any way change how I feel about you. I love you. I love you for choosing me. I love how you are always so fucking open and honest with me. I love you for..." She stopped and he saw the tears slipping down her cheeks. He heard the catch in her voice as she whispered, "I don't need any fucking reason...I love you, Bjorn. And I always will."

Her admission made him feel even more like the fool he was acting. "I'm sorry. I know it is not supposed to be this way. I should be happy that you have won Mikael over, not so fucking jealous I want to strangle him. And I guess some part of me is...my brother has had it tough the past few years. If you can heal some of that..."

He sighed, "But damn it, why is this so much harder than I thought it would be?" he cursed himself once more. 

Then too her hand on his cheek soothed, comforted and offered him mercy, "Because you are human. Maybe this whole poly thing was never as easy as it seems in those damned books. Maybe it is not supposed to be. I can empathize with how you feel my love because oddly enough I think I would rip out any woman's eyes that even dared look at you...sister or not." 

"Promise me one more thing please?" she pleaded with those eyes as well as her words.

He nodded his head, "You know I will...whatever it is. I can't deny you anything."

She smiled and caressed his cheek some more, "Talk to Mikael. See if the two of you can work this out. It is just as hard for him, you know. Maybe worse. I don't get the feeling his ex was much of a prize," she chuckled at the obvious.

He joined her in the mirth, "If you only knew. Greta was in a league all her own. Just about the complete opposite of you, sweetheart." He wrapped his arm about her waist and drew her tight against his body. Last night had been hell. Laying in his bed alone, wanting to hold her, love her, knowing that it was his brother, who was doing just that. He had barely slept. "You have my word on it."

She beamed up at him, "Thank you, my love. Oh...and you may want to discuss that orgasm training shit too."

He frowned, "Why? Why would I do that?"

She stood on her tip toes and whispered in his ear, "Because your brother stumbled upon certain words. You did not tell me that they would work with anyone else."

His frown deepened, "Because I did not realize they would either." This latest was less than pleasing...another layer to his demons. 

"Well, they do. At least with Mikael," she replied as she looked over to where Sven and Olaf stood talking. But Bjorn noticed it was her that held his eldest brother's attention. His countenance was as dark and brooding as the sea and storm that raged about them this morning. And just as foreboding. As Sven said something to their uncle and walked towards them.

His instinct, everything inside of him, demanded that he pull her tighter, holder her closer and protect her. But he was coming to realize that was not his right, not as it might have been, not with them...his brothers. As hard as it was, he forced his hand to loosen their hold about her waist as Sven approached them.

***

"What, Kirsten? No good-bye for me?" his words were colder than the wind that whipped about them.

Why did it fucking bother him so gods be damned much, Sven asked himself. He knew she was angry with him. Hell, he probably deserved it. This trip. What happened on the boat yesterday...almost exactly where she stood now wrapped in his fucking baby brother's protective embrace. And dozens of other reasons. He had screwed it all up. And he still was. But with jealousy and... Fear, yes, fucking fear coursing like the tide through him, he was powerless to do anything else. 

She had been right. Why did the woman always have to be? But the fucking truth was that, as much as Bjorn wanted to claim her as his choice, he had been the one. He had made that final call. He could have allowed her to leave that café, walked her back to the train and seen her on the way back to the life she had known. 

But he had not. Why? Why had he not? He shook his head, of course, he had wanted her. More even when he saw the way that her cheeks flamed such a pretty pink at every reminder and innuendo of the intimacies of the emails and messages they had shared. And her laughter, it had wrapped about his gut, excited him even as it calmed and soothed his demons, worries of a lifetime. 

Truth was that from the moment he had touched her, he was lost. There was no SatNav for this one, not even the stars could guide him as they once had his ancestors. He was alone in this boat, floating aimlessly and lost. Totally lost. 

And when she skewered him with that look, he almost wanted to turn and run. "Good-bye, Sven," she replied coldly. 

Had he really expected anything else? Did he expect anything else? Oh, no doubt, he hoped. But he should know by now, hopes and dreams were not real. No, real was the things you could control. 

And whether she ever fucking looked at him the way that she did at Bjorn or now Mikael, it did not fucking matter. She was still his wife. His. And that meant he controlled her every fucking bit as much as either of those two little shits did. That was his right too. Whether she fucking liked it or not. 

He did not even bother stepping closer, whispering into her ear, seeking privacy. No, instead he issued this command publicly. "The plug. Two hours every day. You will wear it, Kirsten."

She squared her shoulders, pushed away from his baby brother and raised to her full height as she took a step closer to him. She looked over to where his mother now held his niece and some unspoken message seemed to transpire between the women as his mother nodded slowly and turned with the child to leave the ship. He saw his mother shake her silver head as she carried the child away.

When they were safely back on land and far enough that they would not hear, she took another step closer, poked her finger in his chest and lifted that beautiful face that was brimming with rage and anger, "Fuck you, Sven. No. There you have it. No. Submission is mine to give, not yours to take."

He had heard the expression 'seeing red' but never in his life had he understood it. Not until that moment. Not until a scarlet haze blurred his vision. Everything and everyone else floated away like jetsam in the tides. Like trash that tangled in their nets to be carelessly discarded. 

"You want to talk about mine...what is mine to take. Let me tell you, sweetheart. You. Are. Mine. As fucking much as you are baby brothers. Or Mikael's. That's how this works. We are a fucking package deal. You don't get to fucking pick and choose. Not like you fucking think you do. Oh sure, maybe you can play those silly fucking games about who you call to your bed." 

He speared his brother with a look that dared him to interfere as he wrapped his arm about her waist like a vice and drew her against his body. He was hard as a diamond and he did not give a gods be damned if she or they knew it. "Do you really think that is going to stop me, sweet little wife? My wife too." 

"So while we are gone, you fucking think about that. Because I think yesterday damned well showed you that I'm not your love sick little puppy to do with as you fucking please. Or your wounded bad boy? Notice...bad 'boy.' I am nobody's boy or puppy. And maybe that is your fucking problem, that I am a man. A man and a Dom that won't be wrapped around that fucking dainty little finger of yours. That won't play by your fucking rules."

"That's it though, sweetheart, submission, true fucking submission means that you don't make the fucking rules...I do. I. Do." He did not give her the chance to say another word as he captured her, as fully and completely as he had that first day upon this boat, his territory, she was in his domain now, not that fucking monstrosity that passed as her bedroom come dungeon. 

His lips crushed hers, every bit as much as he wanted to crush her defiance. His tongue breeched and duelled with hers. They warred for dominance, but he knew something that in her innocence she did not. Dominance was something you were born with, every bit as much as submission was. And as much as she might want to fight it, nature itself had set those roles. He would win, because it was who he was. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 12



In the end, he did too. Whether it was a minute or ten he did not know or care as he felt her melt into him. As her tongue ceased to battle and instead entwined with his in sweet surrender that took his breath away. He wanted to say to hell with it all, take her below, to his bed and show her once more just what surrender felt like. 

But what would that really prove? That he needed her. Just as much as his brothers. And he was not giving her that power over him. So he broke the kiss and released her so quickly that she would have stumbled and fallen, if Mikael's arms had not caught her. But that too only enraged him. "You will wear the plug two hours each and every day until we return, dear wife. Do not test me on this one." 

She glared at him, opened her mouth to say something, except Mikael spun her in his arms to face him. "You will do as he says. As we say. Do you understand us, Kirsty?"

She opened her mouth once more as if to argue with Mikael too. Sven saw her look to where Bjorn stood just a foot away. But with a sigh even his baby brother only nodded his head. Those incredibly expressive blue oceans swam in tears as she looked from one to the other of them as if seeking a buoy in a turbulent sea. In the end, she dropped her eyes and whispered, "Yes, Sirs."

"Good girl," Mikael rewarded her with a smile that Sven was in no mood to relinquish. "Remember what I said, yes?" 

She nodded and stood on her tip toes as she brushed a brief kiss to his brother's lips, "I will try. I promise. Be safe and come home to us."

Then she turned to Bjorn and repeated the process, "You remember what you promised me. Please be safe," she smiled with true affection at his baby brother and his stomach tightened into knots more restrictive than he had ever used or would dare to with her. "Stay out of trouble." 

She rose and brushed a kiss across his lips too. As she drew back, her voice dropped lower and he strained to hear what secrets she shared with Bjorn over the wind that was beginning to truly hollow then. He was less than pleased at what he heard, "I love you."

He had seen and heard quite enough as he turned to head up to the control room. But a small hand on his arm stopped him. "Who is leaving without saying good-bye to whom, Sven?"

He sighed and shook his head, "Adjö, Kirsten." He was not sure what to do. After what had just happened, he knew even less where he stood with this woman. He certainly did not dare kiss her farewell. 

Take as she accused what she had so freely given his brothers. Instead he simply stood there, staring at the deck of the boat that he would have until days ago sworn was the only thing besides his family that mattered in this whole fucked up world. 

So when he felt her body press a bit tighter against his, he looked up in shock. She pressed a kiss to his lips too. Perhaps not as sincere or as long as she had to his brothers, but even he admitted that it was more than he deserved at the moment. "Be safe. Adjö, Sven."

He sighed and replied, "Good-bye, Kirsten." There was no doubt that his wife was learning their language amazingly quickly. 

He did not, could not stand to watch as she walked away. He feared if he did just then, he would chase after her. Make a complete fool of himself...the same way his love besotted brothers seemed to be. 

And this woman had given no real sign that was what she wanted...not with him anyway. No, he would not risk her rejection. He could not. So he turned then, pulled away from her hand that still rested on his arm and fled, retreated, to what he knew. This boat, the sea. Ran, the only mistress that had ever lasted long with him.

***

Kirsty stared out at the water that was every bit as turbulent as her mind. The storm that had been just beginning when they left yesterday morning was now raging in full force. Winds howled a perfect song to match her dark mood. The rains pounded so fiercely that she could feel them stinging her face and hands as she struggled to keep her hood on her head. Yes, her mood was as dark as this day. 

She still was not certain how she had managed to survive last night. The whole day actually. Without them, the Holding had been unbelievably quiet. Even Monika's normally rambunctious behavior seemed dampened by some unknown force. The child had spent most of the day playing alone near the flames in the fireplace downstairs. Kirsty had curled up on the sofa and alternated watching the child with reading the latest of Raquel Graffen's books. 

She chuckled, the woman made all of this seem as easy as Petrine's well-meaning advice. Her mother too had tried to engage her in conversation, but she was not ready to talk about things which she herself had not fully come to terms with. 

Sven's words...and his mother's...had haunted her day. Could she? Was it as simple as he said? A package deal that she simply needed to accept him as he was, give up all hope of reaching him, or sharing with him the true intimacies that she did with his brothers? Could she truly do that even? 

The truth was that her times with Sven while every bit as sexually satisfying as Mikael or Bjorn, if she were being honest at moments more intense, his assertions about experience were much too close to the truth sometimes, while they were just as satisfying, they left her feeling dirty. Used. Whether as sub, his whore or especially nothing more than an incubator for his child.

She felt the hot tears spill over her cheeks then. That was not helping either. After a horrible night of first dallying in Monika's room until she knew she was keeping her daughter awake, even then she could not face that room alone. She had thought about going back downstairs, perhaps sleeping on the couch but what if Monika needed her in the night? Even with the app on her iPad, it was not the same as being able to hear the child's screams.

She chuckled, perhaps some part of her even had hoped for the girl's nightmares. They would be a distraction from her own. Except her nightmares had not waited for sleep to consume her. Worries had plagued her day. What if something happened to one of them? Even Sven. Being so far away there was nothing she could do to help, as if she could even if she were there, she chided herself. 

She had tried laying down in her bed but that had ended tearfully with memories and thoughts of all that had happened there the past few days. Days...fucking days! How could her whole damned life have been upended and turned on its head in a matter of days? It still boggled her mind. 

Love. The idea that she could come to love not one but two men in such a short time had plagued her thoughts as well. Until she had realized, she was half in love with them before she had met Sven. That line of thought had sent her scurrying to her inbox and all those hundreds of emails, chat transcripts and the challenges. She swallowed just thinking about how easily they had gained her obedience, her submission.

She had re-read many of them. She had been right. She could so easily know which had written each one. Except for...those messages. The challenges. Some were brief, terse like Sven. Others, dark and demanding as her bad boy. And some...deep, intensely personal yet every bit as commanding and controlling, perhaps even more so. How had she never seen it before? The differences? 

Yet she had obeyed them all...without question. Just as she obeyed them today, she shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of the plug in her ass pressing against the cold, wet wood of the dock. She wanted to be angry at them all. 

Maybe a tiny bit of her was. Not so much at Mikael, he had made his position clear to her. He was determined to that bridge between her and his eldest brother Of course, she was angry with Sven, that was easy...and justified. What surprised her more was that she could also feel compassion for him. Perhaps Mikael had gotten inside her head just a bit with this one. She could certainly understand how overwhelming it all felt. Her own emotions were on the roller coaster ride of a life time. Even more so now. 

But Bjorn? His nod might have seemed reluctant, but the truth was that in the end he too had nodded. He had given his assent and support to his brothers in the battle, not to her. That hurt. More than a bit. The fact that they had had no time to discuss that before he left only made it worse. Much worse. She was left alone with her thoughts to try and make sense of it all.

Her only solace had been the brief video chat that she had shared with Mikael shortly after Monika went to bed. He had called to see how they were doing. Bjorn was on watch he said and Sven, of course, was locked tightly in his cabin as usual. Of course, he was interested in how his daughter, their's now she reminded herself, was doing. 

But after her assurances that all was well with the child, he had been much more concerned with her. Had she dropped? Was she absolutely sure? He knew that this was not easy on her. He was so incredibly proud of her for how she handled the good-byes. He thanked and praised her for how hard she had tried with Sven. She could tell though that he was tired. They had been up half the night before. Tomorrow it would be Bjorn, who called he assured her. If she needed them, she was to message, no matter what.

Maybe that was what she should have done this morning. Instead she had cried alone in that huge bed as the cramps hit her, doubling her in pain. But what confused her most was that it was not the excruciating physical pain that hurt her most but the ache in her heart. The knowledge that this time at least there would be no baby. 

She shook her head as her hands covered her lower abdomen. The pain was pretty much gone. The tablets she had taken took care of that. But not even the last hour standing here and staring out to sea after them had begun to lighten the ache in her chest. She cursed herself for being silly. She should be glad, she told herself. It was too soon. She needed time to adjust to this life, this place, them. 

Still none of that filled the ache in her heart. She had been broody for the last year, ever since her twenty-fifth birthday party her desire for a baby had intensified. She had flitted about the pub that night from one group of friends to the next. Some of course were young, single and getting more than a bit loud and drunk. But it was the married couples and especially the babies that drew her most. 

After that she had begun to drop subtle and perhaps not so subtle hints to Raj about perhaps taking things to the logical conclusion. Getting married and starting a family. The man had gotten the hint, just not with her. Of that she was grateful. 

But the past six months of her ruminations about wasted time, giving her youth to man that had never loved her, worse yet that she had never loved, they had eaten at her as that ache and need grew with every wedding and baby shower she attended. Every Christening. Every time she visited another friend in the hospital, glowing and basking in new motherhood. 

She wanted that. A child. A family. And yes, there was no doubt that she had those feelings for Monika. It had been even easier to love the child than it was her father and uncle and that had been surprisingly easy. Still she wanted, almost needed, the whole package...pregnancy. She blushed at the memory of Mikael's very naughty fantasy about drinking milk from her as he rubbed her fecund belly and fucked her slowly. Oh, he could sometimes be such a very bad boy. But she wanted it all...beginning to end.

Once more she assured herself that it was too soon. Despite the tales of unplanned pregnancy, it usually took most couples months or even a year or more to conceive. She frowned as her friend Roz came to mind. At thirty-seven the woman had been trying for almost a decade, drugs, surgeries, even IVF. Nothing. 

Kirsty sighed as a new worry mounted atop her others. What if she too could not conceive? Her cycles after all had never been completely regular. She could be anywhere from twenty-one days to sometimes as much as two or three months between them. Her GP had assured her that while it might take a bit longer, she should be able to conceive naturally without a problem. But what if like Roz she could not? 

She swallowed back the foul taste in her mouth. She supposed that would put quite a damper on Sven. She started to laugh hysterically. Not because it was funny, but because the very thought hurt more than those first cramps had. The vice around her heart tightened even more as a future stretched out in front of her...no sons or even more daughters. No Kelly green eyes that could be laughing one moment and intensely dark the next. No, steel grey ones of anger or determination, no molten silver of passion and love either. 

Would Sven insist on 'divorce' the way that Roz's husband was? It would not even be as complicated for them. Simply drop her back in Tilbury as easily as he had stolen her. No courts, no fights, no houses, property and alimony. Just a final good-bye. But more permanent...Farväl. Farewell. She could hardly breathe at the very thought of it.

Then she felt a soft arm about her shoulders, "We have been looking for you," smiled Petrine.

"Do you need me? Is Monika all right?" she asked.

"No, everything is fine. I, we were just worried about you. I know how hard this all is. I really do. I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it never does. Not even when it is your sons and not your husbands. It is still hard. You just learn to manage I suppose," replied her mother.

Kirsty nodded as she stared out at the rolling waves of the sea. Her mind seemed fixated on the worst. How would she manage if something happened to Bjorn or Mikael the way it had this woman's Lars? Could she survive with the same grace and dignity? Even Sven...yes, damn the man, even him. At least, Rachel had had her sons to comfort her, Kirsty would not have even that not now. 

"Are you droppy again, sweetie?" the woman asked as she squeezed her shoulders tighter.

She shook her head, "No, I don't think so. Nothing so dramatic, just plain old PMS." She tried to smile but her earlier thoughts came back to haunt her. What if she never had sons to see off. She felt herself losing the battle with the tears once more. 

"Oh sweetie, I know. Honest, I do. I understand that one too." The older woman wrapped her in another of those uncomfortable, comforting hugs. She held her for a long moment before drawing back. "I have just the thing. Cherry Garcia ice cream and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers." 

She chuckled as she led her away from the pier, "Cheating little bitch, she could have handled it. Would have been way more fun if she had just left those other six snooty little bitches in town. She was already doing the hard part of the job. Cooking, cleaning and getting those men in line. Oh, just wait until you see Monika. My grand-daughter might not be able to talk but she knows every word to 'Sobbin' Women.' "

Even as Kirsty looked over at the turbulent seas that seemed to have swallowed them into its darkness, she could not help but smile as she imagined the child singing along. She frowned, why had she not thought of it before. Of course, the way that the child had hummed along with the songs on her tablet. That was the answer...music. 

If only it was all as easy, if only reaching him was as simple as it had been with Bjorn, Mikael or Monika. If only, he would bend...just a bit.

***

Bjorn was putting finishing touches on the stew he had made for their dinner. It was nothing fancy, not his best cooking. Then again without her to impress what was the point. He was so busy just trying to focus on not burning the damned thing that he did not even hear him come until he cleared his throat. "So what is for dinner?" asked Mikael.

"Fish stew."

His brother chuckled, "Of course, what else."

Bjorn twirled around to face him, the spoon in one hand, the other already fisted and ready to go. "Make your own damned dinner then, Mikael."

His brother held up both hands in surrender, "I was not complaining. You know that you get stuck with this damned job most of the time because you do it better than either me or gods forbid it Sven." He chuckled, "The man sets even the microwave smoking." 

Bjorn shook his head. The truth was that it was not cooking or the menu that was bothering him. It was her. And them. Sharing his wife with his brothers was not as easy as he thought it would be. "I'm not sure which is worse. How he treats her like something just to be used or you. You love her, don't you?"

His brother nodded, "Yes, probably just as much as you do. And it is not any easier for me." He chuckled and shook his head, "Maybe harder after..."

His brother's voice trailed off. Bjorn nodded, there was no need for Mikael to continue. They both knew what he meant...after Greta's betrayal. Once more, he was left feeling like the most selfish shit in the world. He ought to be happy that she could put the smile back on Mikael's face, not green with envy. "So what the fuck are we going to do about it?"

His brother sighed and crossed the room, taking bowls from the cabinet and ladling up the stew. "I'll do the dishes since you cooked," Mikael offered as he handed him the other bowl and motioned for them to sit down. "She asked me to talk to you."

He nodded, "Yeah, she asked me too."

"So what do you say, baby brother? Truce?" Mikael said as he extended his hand across the table.

Bjorn shook his head. What choice did he really have? Despite everything he had learned the past couple of days, the secrets they had kept from him, he loved his family. This brother, who had always been there for me especially. He smiled as he remembered that fort that was falling down now, but still managed to withstand the storm. That was them...their fucked up family. They would find a way somehow to get through this one too, just as they had with Greta. 

Perhaps just as his father and uncles had with their mother. Who was he to judge what they had done to hold onto the woman they loved? He knew already that there was nothing, absolutely nothing that he would not do to hold onto her.

"Truce," he said as he clasp it tightly across their plates.

When they let go, Mikael picked up his spoon with a smile as he brought it towards his mouth, "So what is this fucked up shit with 'my sweet Freya'?"

Bjorn laughed and felt the tension break for the first time in... A very long time. Perhaps not since the night that Greta had tried to seduce him. His brother's wife...the other one. And while he was not about to reveal that betrayal to the man, not now that his brother was finally beginning to heal, he was thankful that Kirsty had done this...for them. Brought his brother back to them. His niece too. And for the first time since he had seen their small family slipping from those woods, he did not feel like an outsider looking in.

***

Sven stood just outside the galley doorway listening to them talk and laugh. His brothers it seemed had put away their differences. He should be glad since that would make his job much easier, except that he knew they would now be united...against him. 

He frowned as he thought about yesterday morning on the boat. The way that Mikael and even reluctantly Bjorn had backed him with her. He was not sure whether he was grateful or resentful. He did not need their support to correct their wife. He had just as much right as they did to set rules for her. 

Yet here again, he stood on the outside looking in. He had done it his whole life it seemed. But then again maybe that was his choice too. He had been the one that begged, pleaded and almost demanded that he be allowed to go to sea with his uncles when he was a mere child of seven. Had it been some misguided attempt to replace the father he had never known? He was not sure, who knew what things little boys thought. 




Ægir’s Bride Ch. 12



No, he had never felt particularly close to his brothers. Mikael was barely walking when he had finally won the argument with Stig, convincing the man to take him with them on the next trip. The conditions had been harsh, as harsh as the man who set them. He was to do his work, pull his weight on the boat, not get into the adults way...and oh yes, he could not fall behind with the studies his mother sent for him. He had met them all and never once since then had Ægir's Captive been to sea without him.

As for Bjorn? At twelve, he had always thought of himself as more of a man than a child then. He had no time or patience for little red balls of smelly human mess that did nothing but cried and pooed. He left that to Mikael. Maybe the truth was that he was even jealous of the little shit, who had been claimed by the man whom he had always considered his father. Surrogate though that was. But now Stig had a son, a real son. Maybe it was the way that everything changed in his world after that bawling bundle messed it all up? He was not sure, he only knew that Bjorn especially he had resented.

But never more than now. Her. Because of her. He hated the way that she looked at 'pretty' boy. He especially hated those words that had haunted his dreams last night as he lay in the bed where he had first taken her. He had taken her first. Damn it, she was right...he had chosen her. But baby brother would never see that, never admit it. And the fact that she never looked like around him, never said those soft words to him...only made it worse. "Damn her," he cursed as he slipped inside.

They both stopped laughing as they looked up at him, "Don't let me disturb this meeting of the pussy whipped club. I'll just get my dinner and take it back up to the deck."

Mikael shook his head as he took both of their plates to the sink, "Don't worry. I will go up now. You stay and enjoy your dinner."

Sven looked at the glare in Bjorn's eyes. It was clear the idea was as appealing to his brother as it was to him. "No, I don't mind really. You two have much more to talk about and I don't want to intrude," he said as he spooned the stew into the bowl and turned to leave. 

He paused in the doorway. "And don't fucking do that again. Either of you. I don't need or want your help to keep my sub in line. I can manage her just fine without you."

***

Mikael joined his eldest brother in the control room. He observed Sven's profile for a long moment. He had spent a whole fucking lifetime envying the man it seemed. Always trying to break out of his shadow. Whether it was being a better seaman so that his father and uncles would notice or his failed marriage, he had wanted to be different, more than his brother.

Perhaps for the first time though, he saw this man for what he was. Far more cut off from anyone or anything, except this boat, than he had ever been. If he had built defences around his heart after Greta, his brother's rivalled the Great Wall of China. No one had ever breached it either. If he had fortified his after all that his first wife had done, why had Sven? To his knowledge, no one had ever broken his brother's heart. No, the man had always specifically chosen women, subs, who would pose no real threat to it. Why?

"Why? Why were all your subs always married, Sven?"

His brother turned slowly from the sea to face him. Mikael knew it was a trick of the low light on the ship and the darkness into which the boat floated, but for a moment his brother's blue eyes shone too bright. As if...

His voice was rough when he spoke. "It just made things simpler. I knew that most of them would never even think about trading their cushy upper middle class lifestyles for the tiny bit of excitement that a rough fisherman could give them in the bedroom. So I never worried about them wanting anything more than I could give them."

"Still why? Why did you never want more? Someone to love, someone that loves you?" Mikael pushed and probed.

His brother stared back out to sea silently for so long that Mikael believed he had chosen to ignore the question, that it would remain a mystery. He began to check log books and instruments, ready to take over for the night. So when his brother's answer finally came it took him as much by surprise as the words themselves.

"What do I have to offer anyone honestly? This life? Look at how fucked up it is. We spend more time at sea than we do at home. Even though they need us, the whole fucking village is talking behind our backs. Hell, our own fucking family propositioned her on the very first day." Mikael especially did not want any reminder of their distant cousins and rivals. He had more than enough reason to hate Nils and his four brothers.

"If that isn't bad enough, all the fucking what-ifs that we deal with every damned time we go to sea. Hell, when your fucking birth is a reminder of those..." his brother shrugged as his voice trailed off even lower after a moment. "I guess when you are born an orphan, those things just seem more real."

Mikael shook his head after a moment, "An orphan? You have always been this family's fucking golden boy. Hell, ask baby brother what it is like growing up in your shadow. His own damned father always comparing him to Sven. I have spent most of my damned life just trying to step out of your shadow."

"But no more, big brother. You are the biggest fool of us all. Pushing her away. At least I had an excuse. After Greta...well considering everything she did. I had a reason for the walls I built. But you? You let a man that has been dead longer than you have been alive blind you to the fucking truth. Not just with her either...with us too. You never let us in. Even when we try. No wonder she wants to just give up."

He saw his brother's shoulders slump then as he turned away and walked towards the doorway. "Let her. It is probably for the best. That way if anything did..." He paused at the top of the steps. "At least this way, she won't waste any tears on me."

"You are wrong about that too, big brother. She would cry just as hard for you as she would for me or Bjorn." He chuckled sardonically, "Probably more because she would blame herself for never being able to reach you, never being able to make you happy, make you love her. But you see I know the fucking truth...you do. You love her just as much as we do. And that fucking scares the great Captain Ahab more than any whale ever could."

"You go, run and hide. Just like you have for a lifetime. But hear me now. We won't let you hurt her, keep pushing her away the way you have all of us. She deserves more than that."

He sighed, "You do too, big brother. You deserve the happiness she offers. Find a way...fight your way back to us. I know how fucking hard that is. I do, I promise. But I also know how fucking worth it, it really is. How worth it, she is."

Sven did not even bother turning back to face him as he stepped down, "Pussy whipped. She has both of you totally pussy whipped already. Well, I am not like you or your father. I won't let any woman have that power over me. Not ever."

"You think you are so much like him, don't you? More like him than his own son. Well, big brother maybe you are. Just as big a fool as the man, who died without ever really telling our mother how much she meant to him. You really want to be like that? Then you are a fucking fool."

Mikael turned back to look at the windshield as the wind drove huge drops of rain into it. Spattered them against it faster than the wipers could clear it away. This night he would be piloting more by the instruments than by sight. Maybe that was appropriate too. It was certainly the way that he would have to play this between them.

Protecting her and bringing his brother into the fold had never seemed more opposing forces than they did just then. He sighed and prayed to Vör, the goddess of wisdom, to help him navigate these seas that were far rougher than any other he had faced.

While he was at it, he might as well send one to his other favorite goddess, Freya. "Damn, baby brother, I have to give it to you on this one," he smiled as he guided their boat in the dark night and deep waters.

***

Kirsty reached for the box of tissues that Petrine had brought with her along with the laptop, ice cream and Monika. She had been right. The child knew the words to not only 'Sobbin' Women' but most of the other songs as well. She had a lovely voice too it seemed. She had even managed to untie one of the ropes and use it as a microphone of sorts. 

She looked over at the small sleeping form at the foot of her too big bed. She had covered her in one of the extra quilts after the child had finally succumbed to exhaustion just after 'Lonesome Polecat.' She had no intention of moving the child tonight. Truth was that she was not as worried about waking her as she wanted the company. Musicals...she made a note to find and buy as many as she could. Beginning with her favorite, The Sound of Music. 'This are a few of my favorite things' was already beginning to drown out the rich, deep bass of Howard Keel singing 'When You're in Love.' 

That was what had set the trail of tears lose with her. The final scene in the movie when he was finally united with his wife and new baby. After distancing himself from her, them, his own brothers. It hit just a bit too close to home actually. 

That soft smile lit her mother's still beautiful face from within, "You see it too, don't you, sweetie?" She brushed a tear away, "I knew you would. Just give my son some more time...and patience. He will come around. It is just hard for men like that to admit it." She inhaled deeply and got that far-off sad look once more, "Sometimes a lifetime."

Kirsty reached for the woman's hand with her own and squeezed it gently. Rachel gave her a half smile, but it was the deep voice from the doorway as Olaf cleared his throat that drew both their attention, "Excuse me. I don't meant to interrupt anything." He laughed and those eyes twinkles from grey to silver just as his son's did. "Why am I lying? Hell, yes, I meant to interrupt. I am stealing my wife back for the rest of the night."

Rachel shook her head, "What makes you think you can break up girls' night, old man?" 

He crossed the room with a look that though the face might be older, more lined, Kirsty recognized meant just one thing...business. He bent and whispered something in Rachel's ear and the woman nodded, dropped her green eyes and whispered, "Yes, Sir."

She lifted her face that once more shone from within with radiance, "I am calling it a night, dear. The Old Man made me an offer I cannot refuse. Do you need our help getting Monika back to her room?"

She shook her head, "No leave her. I would like the company."

Petrine smiled and squeezed her hand a bit more, "I understand. Well, we will leave you two for now then. Just think on the movie for a bit dear. I know it is not as easy to see, but he loves you too. I promise you he does."

"I promise," Kirsty issued another vow. The second in two days. Did Sven realize that his family had his back? Could he appreciate it if he knew? Probably not. But then again maybe that did not matter, not yet anyway. "Thank you." 

The older couple slipped from the room leaving just the sleeping child and her thoughts to keep her company. Why was those thoughts occupied so completely by thoughts of him? 

Her room...he had not been in her room. Not since that first night. Not as the one she chose. It had always been his cabin on the boat, his terms. Maybe when he got home, she would have to change that. She fell asleep in that huge bed which had welcomed dozens of brides over the centuries, where perhaps hundreds of babies had been born. 

But it was a deep bass and strong alto duet of 'When You're in Love' to which she drifted off to slumber. She would not give up, she had come too far. She would find a way with him too. Her track record with seducing husbands was pretty good after all, two for two. And somehow he would be no different.