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.