#gearhead66

He takes me you to his annual family boat vacation for the first time and you are offered to sleep out your jetlag under deck. There are only small bunk beds, kinda, so you squeeze into one, cuddled together despite the Mediterranean heat, because you need to be close to each other.

Scratch that. You're needy. So needy. It starts with little kisses all over your neck and shoulder, but soon turns into something more steamy. You have to be sneaky tho. No actually, you shouldn't be doing that at all. His family is right there. You could easily get caught. That would ruin their first impression of you entirely!

And you're really exhausted and tired from the 10+ hour flight. You should be sleeping. You're so damn tired. So tired that while you're riding him slowly, first he dozed off, and then you do too, with his cock still deep and hard inside you.

And a few hours later you wake up to him hard again, nudging at you from behind, grabbing your ankle and shoving it up so your knee is bent and you're half on your side, half on your stomach, before he enters you and fucks you slowly, while the waves slowly rock you.

Getting closer, you sink heavily onto the bed, releasing a deep sigh. Ivar immediately moves and groans, annoying you. He should know better and not dare to complain. "Ivar, don't expect me to apologize! I am warning you!" You hiss through clenched teeth, furrowing your brows. "Carry a baby for nine fucking moons and then, maybe, you'll be allowed to say something!"

 Sitting up, he grabs a candle and lights it before shifting next to you. 

 Looking at him, you see his big, sleepy blue eyes staring at you, bewilderment written all over his face. "Min elskede, are you all right? Is there anything I can do?" There's no annoyance or impatience in his voice, and his gentleness stirs you up. You love him so much… Forgotten, your previous anger is replaced by an emotional roller-coaster bringing tears to your eyes. 

 Since you don't answer, he gets closer to you, squeezing both your hands in one of his. "Y/N, min elskede, why did you get up? Tell me please."

Using his free hand, he gently fixes a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

 "I don't know…" Shrugging your shoulders, you try to explain. "I had… I was too hot. And then I had to… pee…" You blush. "And now I wish I'd grab something to eat. I'm hungry. And I'm cold." Snuggling into his arms, you can't help but pout. 

 Smiling at you, he kisses softly the tip of your nose before speaking firmly, grabbing and patting a fluffy pillow. "I'll take care of everything. Lie down, min elskede." You're too exhausted to fight back and just do as you're told. Rewarded by a soft kiss on your forehead, Ivar folds several furs onto you and you give him a little smile.

 You watch him as he throws himself onto the floor and starts crawling. The glorious sight of his nacked, chiseled chest is mesmerizing and painfully appealing. If you weren't so pregnant, you'd probably jump on him for a long and passionate lovemaking session. But here you are, huge and so weary that the simple thought of moving again exhausts you. Frustrated, you close your eyes, sighing heavily. 

 "I'll be right back, min elskede." Stopping at the doorway, Ivar gives you a last comforting smile and then disappears. You do know he'll come back with everything you could wish for, and undoubtedly more. 

 From the very beginning, Ivar has always been different around you. Nicer to you than to other people. Less prone to anger. You know it's because of the way you acted when you first met him. That night, for the first time in his life, he had been treated first as a human being, and not as a cripple. 

   He'd traveled all the way to Vestfold to ask your uncle, King Harald, for his support in his war against Lagertha. You, the illegitimate daughter of Halfdan the Black, the king's brother, lived most of the time further north with your mother, who had only been a one-night stand to your father. But once or twice a year, Harald invited you to Vestfold, usually for his own benefit.

 That time, the king had asked you – urged you – to seduce Ivar the Boneless, in order to strengthen their alliance. You didn't like being treated like a courtesan and had locked yourself in your room. It had taken all your father's forcefulness to convince you to come out. When you had eventually entered the hall, the feast in honor of the youngest Ragnarsson was in full swing. Dressed in a beautiful burgundy red dress offered to you by King Harald, you had caught everyone's attention but only had eyes for your uncle's special guest. Immediately captivated by his perfect facial features, you had felt as if you were drowning in his unimaginably blue eyes as soon you had looked into them, your heart skipping a beat. 

 Sitting next to your uncle, the chair to his left was free, reserved for you according to your father's words. Taking your seat nervously, you had wondered if he could hear the frantic heartbeat in your chest.  

 From that moment on, it was just the two of you. You weren't even sure the world kept spinning. For hours, Ivar and you had been talking, smiling at each other, his hand grabbing yours under the table, your fingers stroking his knuckles. 

You soon had realized that Ivar's reputation – a selfish, bloodthirsty and ruthless prince – only reflected part of the man he was: outstandingly intelligent, curious about everything, funny, smart and clever. He had asked you a lot of questions, wanted to know everything about you. You had told him about your village, about your mother's people, the Sami, and their peculiar customs. He had listened carefully, often asking you to clarify some details. He had been more reluctant to talk about his life, claiming that yours was much more exciting than his own, made of wars and blood. 

 When your completely drunk uncle had ended the feast, Ivar had put his hand on your forearm, tentatively offering to see you again the next day. Much to his surprise, you had agreed right away, a wide smile lighting up your face. And then a frown had crossed his face as he had lowered his head. "Y/N, I… There's something you need to know… "The panic was written all over his face. "I'm… not like everyone else." Swallowing, he had kept his head down.

 Of course he wasn't. He was different. He had won your heart in a matter of hours. What was the problem? Then, realization had hit you. Of course. Speaking softly, you had grabbed his hand. "I know absolutely everything I need to know about you, Ivar."

 Releasing a shaky breath, Ivar had shook his head. "No, you don't. You wouldn't have agreed to meet me again if you did. You wouldn't have agreed if you knew that I'm a cr—" Shushing him, one finger on his lips, one hand on his chin, you had forced him to look at you. "Ivar, I know your legs don't work. I knew all along. I knew when I sat next to you." He was bewildered and speechless. Shrugging, you had explained. "I don't care if you can't walk, Ivar, it doesn't matter. What matters though, it's what's there,” your hand had briefly grazed his chest, you had pointed at his heart, "and there,”  your index finger had  brushed his forehead as you had smiled once again. "So yes, I definitely want to meet you tomorrow." And then, your lips had audaciously found his, leaving him astounded.  

 You were already utterly in love. And so was he. That night, you spoke with your heart and Ivar believed you. And more importantly, from that night on, he trusted you, allowing himself to be soft and caring when it was just the two of you.  

  Abandoned to your memories, you sigh lovingly. Gods, this man is your everything and you love being the one with whom he's his true self. You know him like no one else does. And you see him for who he is. Not a king, not a cripple. Just a man; your man. Often stubborn, sometimes hot-tempered but always and unwaveringly loving. 

 Since you are with child, Ivar takes even greater care of you, his unexpected yet unfailing patience both surprizing and delighting you. Whether you're screaming, crying or sulking, he's always there, smiling, cheering you up, whatever the time of day or night. And no matter what you ask, he's always trying to meet all your needs, making a point of doing everything on his own. 

 Every night, since your first cravings many months ago, he brings you something to eat.

 Every day, he massages your tense shoulders and your aching back, and then rubs your swollen legs. 

 At all times, he wordlessly endures your mood swings and tantrums. 

 Every morning, he helps you get dressed before braiding your hair while whispering words of love for only you to hear. 

 And every day, you feel guilty.

 Since you're pregnant, you're not yourself. Most of the time you can't help it, but sometimes you realize what you're doing and blame yourself for treating your husband so poorly. 

 "Min elskede!" His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

 Pushing a heavy wooden tray in front of him, Ivar carefully crawls his way back.  From where you are, you can see on the tray two bowls and one plate, all full of delicacies. 

 When he's close enough, Ivar hands you the tray before pulling himself up on the bed, taking a seat right next to you. Helping you sit up, he places a large cushion behind your back, his knuckles grazing your cheek while his lips briefly find yours. 

 Looking down, you stare in wonder at what Ivar brought you. Once again, he thought of everything: various dried meats, goat cheese, those blueberries you love so much and those pickled herrings you usually hate but are mad about since you are with child. 

 Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you let out an embarrassed laugh. "Ivar, I don't deserve this…" Blinking a few times, you grab his hand. "I don't deserve you."

 He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Min elskede, you made me a man, then a husband." He tenderly puts his free hand on your huge belly. "And soon, I'll become a father. It's more than I could have hoped for. Of course you deserve this. You deserve even more than this." Before you can say anything, Ivar pops a blueberry in your mouth. 

 Patiently waiting for you to finish eating, Ivar keeps a soothing hand over your shoulders, absentmindedly massaging them while pecking you on the cheek. As soon as you finish, he puts the tray on the nightstand, nodding appreciatively as he sees the cleared plates. 

 "Min elskede, it's far from dawn, you should try to get back to sleep." You nod getting lost in a yawn and lay down, rolling on your side with effort. Ivar lays down as well, facing you, his right hand brushing your belly.  

 "I love you, Ivar, I love you so much. You're a wonderful husband and you're going to be an amazing father." Sighing, you close your eyes for an instant. "You'll be a much better father than yours or mine ever was." Your voice is shaky and you can see uncertainty on Ivar's face.

 "I'll try, Y/N, I'll try really hard. I can promise that I'll do my best." His breath hitches as he grabs your hand, squeezing it. "But tell me… Tell me again…" He stops, eyes clearly watering. Swallowing, he winces before taking a deep breath. "Tell me… What are we going to do if the baby is… like me?"

 That's his greatest fear. You know your husband is terrified. The thought of him passing his condition – his curse, as he says – on to your kid gives him nightmares. Since you have been with child, he's done everything he can not to bother you with it. Yet, the closer it gets, the less he manages to hide his worries.

 A hand on his cheek, you give him a reassuring smile. "If the baby is like you, my king, we'll love them just as much. We'll be there for them at every step, and you can teach them everything you had to find out on your own. If the baby is like you, it will be their strength and we'll help them to make the most of it. And I promise you, Ivar, growing up, this child will have everything you didn’t." Eyes bathed in tears, Ivar sniffles as you grasp his hand, firmly putting it back on your belly. "However, because of those vigorous kicks…,” Ivar almost jumps, wide-eyed, as he feels something hitting his hand and you stifle a laugh, "… I strongly believe their legs will be perfectly healthy."

 Closing his eyes, Ivar enjoys feeling the blows against his palm, but frowns as you hiss in pain, one of them reaching your ribcage. 

 Sitting upright and adjusting his legs, he takes the fur off, tossing it to the side before pushing your nightgown up. He gently presses his hand on your belly, his fingers freely running over your skin, before lowering his head. "Min skat, I know you can't wait to see the world, and the truth is, I can't wait to meet you. But for now, please, let your beautiful mother sleep." Whether it's Ivar's voice, or his touch, it works and you can feel your baby calm down. Ivar inhales deeply. "My father once told me that happiness was nothing. He couldn't be more wrong. Your mother made me a happy man, which I thought was impossible. She and I, together, will teach you love and happiness…"

 As you struggle to hold back your tears, Ivar peppers light kisses all over your belly. "Go to sleep, baby…" He whispers… "Sleep, min skat."

 🛡⚔️🛡