#vkings

You made your way down to the lake, just as you always had—when the sky burned with the last light of the day and when you knew no one else would be there. The water was yours at this hour, a quiet place to think, to escape.

You glanced around, cautious as ever, before pulling the linen dress over your shoulders and letting it slip to your ankles. The cool evening air kissed your skin, and for a brief moment, you hesitated before stepping forward. Your toe dipped into the water first, adjusting to the temperature, before you sank in completely, letting it envelop you.

But you weren’t alone.

The sons of Ragnar had been watching. They always did.

Perched on the hillside, hidden by the trees, they waited—just as they had many times before. They heard you sing—beautifully.

Ubbe exhaled a slow, appreciative breath. "What a body… like a goddess." His voice was hushed, reverent, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the illusion of you before them. Your skin glistening under the the faint sun.

Hvitserk grinned, eyes hungry. "I want to have her."

Laughter followed.

"Only in your dreams," Sigurd mocked, smirking. "She will be mine."

But Ivar—he said nothing. He only watched.

His brothers words faded into meaningless noise as his blue eyes traced the way your skin glowed under the dying sunlight, the way water clung to your curves, how your hair slicked against your shoulders. He had heard men in Kattegat whisper about you, speak your name with longing. Even Jarls had asked for your hand, and yet, you had refused them all.

Why?

Ivar clenched his jaw, lost in the thought of you. Of your hands. Of how they might feel on him. He didn’t just want you. He wanted to own you, to make you his, to be the only man you ever looked at.

The crude voices of his brothers pulled him from his thoughts.

"She needs a real man," Hvitserk chuckled, nudging Ivar with his elbow. "Not some cripple who crawls around like a baby."

Ubbe smirked. "You think you have a chance, little brother?"

"Pathetic," Sigurd agreed. "You wouldn’t even know what to do with all that body of a woman."

Laughter erupted again.

Ivar’s jaw tensed, his grip on the dirt beneath him tightening. Then, without warning, he lunged.

"I’m going to kill you." His voice was a growl, low and full of fury.

The hilltop became chaos. He and Sigurd tumbled downward, fists and nails clawing at each other, their bodies rolling violently down the slope. When they finally hit the foot of the lake, you gasped.

"Guys—?"

Neither of them heard you.

Blood smeared across Ivar’s face, his breathing trembling as he shoved Sigurd back. But Sigurd had landed the worst blows, his lip curling in triumph.

Then he saw you.

Still half-submerged in the water, your arms wrapped around yourself, eyes wide in shock.

Sigurd stiffened. His smug expression faltered.

And without a word—he turned and ran.

Ivar remained where he was, panting, his chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic breaths. Blood trickled from his brow, mixing with the dirt on his skin. His hands trembled, though with pain or rage, you weren’t sure.

"Shit..." he muttered, dragging a hand across his face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You waded toward the shore, fingers wringing water from your hair before reaching for your dress. As you pulled the linen over your shoulders, you finally looked at him—really looked at him.

Ivar’s blue eyes burned as they met yours.

And for the first time, you wondered if he had been watching you all along.

His hands, still clenched into fists, trembled slightly as he wiped at the blood on his brow. But it was no use. The wound on his forehead was still fresh, and the crimson streaked down the side of his face, mixing with dirt.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer.

"You’re bleeding." Your voice was softer now.

Ivar scoffed, looking away. "I know."

He didn’t move as you knelt beside him, the damp earth cool beneath your bare knees. His exhale faltered when you reached out, tearing a strip from the hem of your dress. The sound of fabric ripping made him glance at you, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"What are you—"

"Hold still."

You dipped the cloth in the lake, wringing it out before bringing it to his face.

At first, he flinched, his entire body tensing as if expecting a blow rather than kindness. His lips pressed together, and for the first time since you'd known of him, he looked uncertain.

You had seen Ivar be ruthless, cruel even. You had heard the things people whispered about him—the monster, the cripple, the son of Ragnar with no legs but the sharpest mind, the coldest heart. But now, with the way his breath stilled as you wiped the blood from his brow, he looked...different.

Almost vulnerable.

"You shouldn’t let them get to you," you murmured, carefully dabbing at the cut. "Sigurd only taunts you because he knows it gets under your skin."

Ivar let out a small, breathy laugh. "And you think I should just let him?"

"I think you should make him eat his words when it matters, not when he’s goading you like a child."

Ivar swallowed, he stole a glance from your lips to your eyes.

You were close. Closer than anyone ever got to him. He could smell the lake on your skin, the faint trace of something floral that lingered in your hair. His brothers had laughed at the thought of him ever touching a woman like you, but here you were, your fingers pressing so gently against his temple, your expression filled with something he didn’t quite understand.

Care.

His head dipped as he tried to say something—anything—but the words got stuck. His usual sharp tongue failed him.

"There," you said, finally pulling back, eyeing your work. The bleeding had stopped.

Ivar exhaled through his nose, his hands flexing at his sides as if resisting the urge to grab onto something. Maybe onto you.

"You should get back," he huffed, his voice quieter now. "Before someone sees you with me."

You tilted your head. "And why would that be a bad thing?"

He swallowed again, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down, suddenly focused on the dirt beneath his fingers.

Ivar, the man who could spit venom at anyone who dared cross him, looked almost bashful.

And something about that made you smile.

And worse, you were still there.

You should have left by now, should have gathered your things and disappeared back into the village, but instead, you lingered. Watching him.

"You always watched me, hm?" you asked suddenly, mustering his face. A hint of laughter colored your tone.

Ivar stiffened. His fingers curled into the dirt.

"What?"

"You and your brothers." You smirked, shifting your weight as you sat back next to him. "You think I didn't notice? You think I don’t know when I’m being watched?"

He forced down a lump in his throat. He should have denied it, should have laughed it off, should have said something cruel to push you away like he always did with others. But he couldn't.

Because you were right.

"I..." he started, but the words broke off, sticking to his tongue like honey. His teeth locked in shame, looking away, humiliated by the warmth creeping up his neck.

"I wonder," you mused, drawing a slow circle in the dirt beside you, your voice teasing, "what does Ivar the Boneless think about when he watches?"

His head snapped toward you, eyes widening.

"What?"

"You heard me." Your lips curved into something wicked, and then, with intent, your fingers found the front tie of your dress, idly toying with it. "You’ve seen me like this, haven’t you? Every evening. Floating in the water. Undressing."

The knot at your chest was loose from earlier, and with the way your fingers played with it now, it threatened to come undone entirely.

Ivar’s throat went dry. His hands stirred with impatience, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

"Stop," he rasped out, voice hoarse.

"Stop what?" You leaned in—your voice a secretive whisper. "Making you think about all the things you’ve imagined?"

He wanted to tell you to stop, to tell you that you were being cruel—but he couldn’t. Because he had imagined. More than once. More than he would ever admit.

"You think I don't know what goes through a man's mind when he watches a woman like that?" you murmured, still toying with the tie, still watching him unravel.

His nostrils flared.

"I have never—"

"Never?" You lifted a brow, unconvinced.

"You think I am like them?" he voiced out. "That I sit there and talk about you like they do? Like you are nothing more than something to be taken?"

The intensity in his voice startled you.

"I would never." He whispered, like he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you. "You are not like other women. You are…more."

Something shifted in the air between you.

He was looking at you like you were something untouchable, something he had wanted for so long but had never dared to reach for.

"You are beautiful." The words left his lips so quietly, as if he wasn’t sure he should say them out loud. "Too beautiful."

Your breath caught.

"I have always wanted you to be mine," he admitted, almost in defeat. "Even when I knew I could never have you."

His voice was raw, the usual confidence stripped away.

"But you refuse everyone. Even the strongest men in Kattegat. I know you are not easily won."

Your chest rose and fell, a strange heat curling in your stomach at his confession.

"And yet…" you tilted your head, "you still wanted me?"

Ivar let out a reluctant breath. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn't dare.

"I still do."

You moved—shifted closer, swinging one leg over his lap until you were straddling him. He inhales sharply, his hands gripping the grass at his sides as if it was the only thing grounding him.

"W-What are you doing?" He stammered, his voice unsure.

You smiled, amused by the rare glimpse of hesitation in him. "What does it look like?"

Your fingers found the front tie of your dress again, but this time, you weren’t playing. You tugged at it, undoing the knot until the fabric loosened. It slipped over your shoulders, baring soft breasts beneath.

Ivar clenched his teeth, his eyes darting anywhere but at you—at the trees, at the ground, at the blood still drying on his fingers.

You laughed, a soft, sweet sound that made his stomach tighten.

"Don’t be afraid, Ivar." Your voice was gentle, teasing, but there was something else in it, something that told him you weren’t mocking him.

He swallowed hard. "I’m not afraid."

"Then look at me."

He hesitated, but when you placed your hands on his, guiding them to your breasts, letting him knead them, his breath left him in a sudden exhale.

His eyes were piercing—wide and almost disbelieving—in awe.

"Is this what you imagined, hm?" You murmured. "While you touched yourself?"

His entire body went rigid beneath you. A deep, vibrating breath left his lips, and his hands almost jerked away, but you held them there, pressing them firmer against you, as you bit your lower lip.

His face burned. His grip was anxious, timid, as if afraid he’d do something wrong.

"I…" He swallowed again, looking utterly spoiled by the weight of your words. His lips opened, but no response came.

You smirked.

"Don't be ashamed, Ivar." You whispered, leaning in so your breath ghosted over his ear. "You don't have to lie to me."

It was intoxicating.

"Hm," you murmured, letting your fingers ghost down his arms before settling on his wrists. "Have you ever done this before?"

His hands jittery against you.

You saw the way his throat tightened, the flicker of something raw and vulnerable in his expression. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"No," he admitted, almost a whisper.

Your smile was soft, teasing, but not cruel.

"I thought so."

His brows twitched together, as if he wanted to argue, but before he could, you took his hands and placed them on your waist, guiding his fingers to settle against the curve of your body. His grip was stiff at first, uncertain, but you gave him time.

You cupped his face. His skin was warm beneath your touch, a contrast to the cool evening air.

"Relax." You smiled at him warmly. "It's okay..."

You leaned in, closing the space between you, and then—tenderly—your lips met his.

The moment your mouths touched, he made a noise.

"Hmh."

It was almost startled, awkward, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. His lips were tense beneath yours at first, unsure, like he was trying to figure out how to move, how to breathe.

You pulled away just enough to look at him, your breath ghosting over his lips. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed.

"I-I want...to taste you."

His gaze flickered down, and you could see the way his throat bobbed again, the way his lips parted slightly as if the thought alone was overwhelming.

You nodded—smiling.

But he wanted it.

Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned forward. His lips brushed over the curve of your breasts, a whisper of a touch. Then, gaining a bit more confidence, he kissed again, firmer this time, his calloused hands kneading your delicate flesh.

You hummed in approval, threading your fingers through his hair, encouraging him.

His tongue flicked out, hesitantly circling the hardened peak. When you sighed at the feeling, he grew bolder, wrapping his lips around it fully, sucking softly.

"Ivar," you moaned—full of lust.

Ivar exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping you tighter. His tongue worked over your nipple, flicking and teasing before he bit down—harder than expected.

You gasped, and he immediately pulled back, looking up at you in a panic, his lips slightly swollen.

"Did I—?"

"No," you reassured him with a smirk. "I like it."

Your fingers trailed down his arm carefully before finding his other hand. His grip was still hesitant, still unsure of what to do, of how far he could go. You took it gently, guiding it up, pressing his palm against your throat.

He froze.

His blue eyes flew up to yours, searching, his breath uneven. His fingers trembled against your skin, but he didn’t tighten them—he just held you there, as if he wasn’t sure he should.

"You want me to choke you?" His voice was quiet, volatile.

You nodded, your pulse fluttering beneath his hand. "Yes."

His brows furrowed slightly. He swallowed—tongue darting out to wet his plump lips.

"You’re sure?" His voice was softer this time, almost boyish in the way he asked, like he needed your permission to do this.

You pressed his hand a little firmer against your throat. "I’m sure."

Carefully, he applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feeling, and when you opened them again, he was staring at you. Watching every reaction.

"Like that?" he murmured.

"More."

He swallowed again, his fingers tightening just a little more. But the way your lips parted, the way your body reacted beneath his hands—it made something glint in his expression.

He was still hesitant—uncertain, but when he squeezed just a little harder and heard the way your breath tore—

"Ivar…"

His name, falling from your lips in that soundless moan, sent a jolt through his body. His grip on your throat tightened instinctively before loosening again, as if he was afraid he’d go too far.

"Fuck," he whispered, almost to himself. His free hand playing with your breasts—kissing them.

"You look so beautiful with my hand wrapped around your throat," he whispered, his voice raw, needy. "Like you were made for me."

You whimpered as his grip tightened again, just for a second, your thighs squeezing around his lap in response.

"You like that, don’t you?" His voice was jagged, like he was almost surprised. He let out a small laugh, but it was desperate, crushed.

"You like it when I squeeze your pretty throat while you moan for me?" He teased.

You nodded, gasping when he pulled you closer, pressing you flush against his chest. His lips were right by your ear now.

"Tell me you wanted me, just as much as I wanted you." He growled low.

"I needed you so much, Ivar." You obeyed, moaning breathlessly, as he moaned in response.

"Gods, I want to ruin you," he rasped, his voice shaking with need.

You pulled back slightly, suppressing a smile. "Ruin me, Ivar."

He looked wrecked. Flustered, desperate, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

You kissed him again, slower this time, coaxing him into it. His fingers dug into your waist as if anchoring himself. He tried to mimic the way your lips moved against his.

You felt it—the way his body strained beneath you, the way his breath stuttered when your hips circled just slightly against his heat. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel him hardening, his arousal pressing against you as if betraying everything he was too shy to say aloud.

"You like that?" You teased, rocking against him slowly.

"You have no idea..." Ivar let out a choked noise.

"So excited, hm?" You taunted, your lips brushing against his ear as your fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle beneath his tunic.

He swallowed hard.

"Wait—" His voice was hoarse, but he didn’t push you away.

Your fingers reached the front tie of his pants, playing with the knot, tugging at it just slightly, just enough for him to feel the shift.

Ivar let out a shaky exhale, his head tilting back just a fraction, his lips parting—but he was rigid, every muscle in his body coiled like a bowstring about to snap.

"You don’t have to—" He hesitated, hands flexing against your waist. His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. "I don’t... I don’t know what to do."

You smiled, leaning in to press your lips against his jaw, just beneath his ear.

"You don’t have to do anything."

You felt it—the hesitation, the fear beneath the arousal, the unspoken terror that this was all some cruel joke, that at any moment you might laugh at him, just like his brothers did.

"I'm afraid you will laugh at me."

But you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him.

Slow, deep, your lips moving against his with purpose, swallowing every unsteady breath, every noise he tried to bite back. Your hand pressed against him more firmly, your palm teasing along the outline of him, feeling how hard he was, how much he wanted this—wanted you.

"I would never laugh at you, Ivar," you purred against his lips, as you traced the outline of his hard length with your fingertips.

He shuddered.

And then—finally—he let you. Your eyes never left his.

You tugged the knot loose, feeling how his stomach tensed beneath your fingers. He looked down—panting.

His whole body was stiff, every muscle locked as you reached inside, weapping your fingers around his cock for the first time.

Ivar gasped.

A sharp, choked sound left his lips, his head falling back against the grass as his hands scrambled against your sides, not knowing whether to pull you closer or push you away from the sheer overwhelming sensation of it.

"Gods—" he groaned, his breath shuddering as you gave him a slow, testing stroke.

You giggled at the sight of him, utterly undone beneath you.

"You’re so sensitive," you mused, stroking him again, watching the way his hips jerked ever so slightly into your touch, his body betraying him. "Have you never been touched like this before?"

Ivar’s eyes squeezed shut, his lips parting around another helpless, shaky breath.

"N-No," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Never."

Your smile widened, something warm curling in your chest at the realization that this—this moment—was his first.

"So hard for me," you whispered, your thumb caressing over his leaking tip, watching the way his thighs tensed, how his brows knitted together in helpless pleasure.

A broken, needy whimper left his lips, and you laughed softly, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear.

"You sound so beautiful when you whimper for me, Ivar."

His breath hitched sharply, his hands grasping at your waist, but he was powerless beneath you, lost in the sensation, lost in you.

"Wouldn’t it drive your brothers mad?" You teased, your lips trailing kisses along his jaw. "That of all the men who have wanted me, of all the Jarls and warriors I have denied, I did it for you? That I only ever wanted you?"

Ivar let out a shaky moan, his lashes fluttering. "W-Why?" he whined, almost like he didn’t believe you.

You smiled as you worked him gently in your hand.

"Because I hoped—" you whispered, your lips almost touching his—"that one day, we would be this close."

His entire body trembled.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering away. "But I am—"" He hesitated, jaw tightening. "I cannot take you like other men could."

His deepest fear.

"Believe me, you are taking me better than any man ever could." You responded.

He was stiff again, shoulders squared like he was bracing himself for something—mockery, rejection, pity.

"Ivar," you purred against his lips, "I don’t want them. I never have. I want you—just as you are."

"You really mean that?"

You nodded.

You wrapped your fingers more firmly around him, stroking him in a slow, teasing rhythm, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched in your grasp.

"How often have you imagined this, Ivar?" You whispered, your lips brushing against his neck.

He let out a soft, strangled moan, his hips flinching slightly into your hand before he forced himself still, his grip on you tightening.

"I—" He swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out. "Every time."

You smiled against his skin. "Every time?"

"Every time you bathed," he admitted, his voice wrecked, shaking. "Every time I watched you, every time you let the water touch your body, I imagined—"

He groaned as you squeezed him slightly, your thumb circling over the sensitive tip, feeling the way his body reacted to you, how easily he was unraveling.

"Imagined what, Ivar?" You teased, your strokes slow, torturous.

He let out a desperate breath. "Imagined this—your hands on me, touching me, making me feel—" His voice faltered, his head tipping back as another soft moan escaped him.

You kissed along the line of his collarbone, smiling against his skin. "And did you touch yourself while thinking of me?"

Ivar whimpered.

His grip on you was bruising now, his fingers digging into your hips as if he was trying to hold himself together. His cheeks were burning.

"Yes," he admitted. "Every night."

Your stomach tightened at his confession, heat pooling between your thighs.

"Poor thing," you teased, pumping him just a little faster, feeling how thick and heavy he was in your hand, the way his body twitched with each slow stroke. "You must have been so frustrated, watching me, never being able to touch me."

"Gods...yes," Ivar moaned, his hips bucking slightly into your grip, completely lost in the feeling.

"And now I’m here," you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, "touching you, making you feel good. Just like you imagined."

Ivar let out a broken sound, "Better," he choked out, "better than I ever imagined."

He was beautiful like this—completely unraveled, completely at your mercy. Lips and cheeks flush.

You lifted your hand to your lips and spit into your palm, watching as Ivar’s eyes widened, his breath hitching sharply in his throat.

"Gods," he groaned, his hips jolting slightly at the sight.

You smile at him, as you wrapped your slickened hand around his dick again, and he whimpered—a soft, broken sound as you spread the wetness along his length, mixing with the arousal already leaking from his tip.

"Look at you," you teased, your lips ghosting over his, "so desperate for me."

"I—" Ivar gasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his body shaking as you pumped him slowly, teasingly. "Please."

"Please what?" You kissed him, slow and deep, swallowing the strangled moan that escaped him as you worked him in your hand.

"I don’t—"" He broke off into another shaky whine as your thumb brushed over his tip, gathering the wetness there. "I don’t know—I just—more."

"More?" You kissed down his jaw, then his throat, letting your lips linger against his heated skin as you continued your slow strokes. "You’re begging so lovely."

Ivar barely had time to react before you sank to your knees in front of him.

"Gods," he whispered, his voice breaking.

You glanced up at him, eyes filled with desire, before pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his tip.

Ivar moaned—a wrecked, desperate sound, his hips bucking slightly before he forced himself still, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

"Have you imagined this too, Ivar? My mouth on you?" You murmured, your breath warm against his sensitive tip.

"Yes," he gasped, his voice raw with need.

Ivar cut off on a moan the second your mouth wrapped around him, his whole body jerking.

"Gods—fuck," he gasped, his voice wrecked, shaking. His head tipped back, his lips parted as he sucked in a ragged breath, his entire body trembling under the new, overwhelming sensation of your wet, hot mouth around his aching cock.

He was thick, flushed deep red at the tip, already leaking with arousal that smeared against your lips as you sucked him in deeper. The veins along his length throbbed under your touch, his cock twitching every time your tongue flicked over the sensitive head, every time your lips tightened around him.

"Please—" He moaned louder as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to grab your hair, to guide you, but was too afraid—too lost in the pleasure to even think properly.

"You’re so—fuck—so wet," he groaned, his hips twitching, betraying his restraint. "Feels too good—feels—"" He choked on a moan as you swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the pulsing vein there before taking him even deeper.

"Love how you taste," you moaned on him, your voice thick with arousal.

He whimpered. Sweat started beading at his brow, his chest heaving as he watched you through lidded eyes—completely ruined, completely yours.

"I can’t—" His voice was strained, desperate. "I—fuck—I don’t know how much—"

You smirked up at him, your lips wrapping tighter around him as you sucked hard, taking him even deeper.

Ivar mewled, his hands flying to your hair before he could stop himself, his hips jerking forward as his cock throbbed in your mouth.

"Fuck!" he gasped. "I—I'm—"

You hummed around him, and that was all it took.

"Gods," he groaned, his head tipping back, his jaw slack with pleasure. "You—You’re so beautiful like this—lips wrapped around my cock."

You let him take control, let him guide you, your nails digging into his thighs as you relaxed, letting him use your mouth like he’d always dreamed.

"So warm. So fucking perfect."

You moaned around him, your eyes locked onto his, and Ivar lost it.

"I—fuck—" His breath broke off, his whole body tensing as his cock throbbed against your tongue. "I—I'm—"

With a strangled moan, his hips jerked forward one last time as he spilled into your mouth, his hot seed hitting the back of your throat in thick, pulsing waves.

"Gods," he groaned, his grip in your hair tightening as he rode out his orgasm, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

You swallowed all of it, sucking him through it, drawing out every last drop as he rode out his high.

He was panting, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths as he tried to recover from what you had just done to him.

And yet, as you pulled back, licking your lips with a knowing smirk, his eyes never left yours.

You gazed up at him with something softer now—affection laced with glee, admiration mingling with desire. He looked wrecked, his skin had turned rosy, his lips parted—his icy blue eyes blown.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Slowly, you rose to your feet. Your dress slipping down completly.

His pupils dilated.

"So beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if aching to reach out and touch. "I have only seen you naked from afar…but now—up close—" His breath caught. "You are more perfect than the goddesses themselves."

His hand lifted, tentative, his fingertips brushing the air between you, but just as he was about to make contact, you pulled back with a playful smirk.

"Only if you come and take a swim with me."

Ivar blinked, the haze of lust in his eyes sparkling with something else.

"What?" he asked, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly.

"Come," you pushed, stepping backward toward the lake, your bare body illuminated by the fading sunlight. "Join me."

Ivar hesitated, his expression shifting—desire warring with something else—Fear.

"I can't swim."

Your smile widened. "Then I guess you’ll have to trust me."

And with that, you turned, stepping into the water, disappearing beneath the surface, leaving him sitting there—stunned, breathless, and aching to follow you.

Ivar looked at the water’s edge, his body still tense, his breathing still unsteady—not just from what had happened between you moments ago, but from what you were asking of him now.

His sharp blue eyes followed you as you floated effortlessly on the lake’s surface, your naked body half-submerged, the water lapping gently against your skin. The soft glow of the setting sun cast golden ripples across the water, making you look almost otherworldly, like some goddess who had lured him into her grasp.

And he wanted to go to you. But his body betrayed him at the thought.

He had never been in the water like this. He knew his brothers could swim—had watched them play and dive when they were children—but he had always been left on the shore, watching, knowing he could never move the way they did, knowing the water would pull him down like a stone if he ever tried.

"Ivar," you called softly, your voice warm, inviting, as you swam back closer.

You reached out, your fingers barely brushing his hand. "Do you trust me?" you asked.

His jaw tightened. His gaze moving between your face and the dark water around you, breathing heavy, unsteady.

"I—" He hesitated, his pride warring with the deep, unspoken Dread buried in his chest. "I don’t know."

You laughed, but he didn’t. He was watching you too intently, his blue gaze sharp, as if he was truly wary of you.

"What?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

Ivar exhaled sharply through his nose. "You are like a Sjörå," he muttered.

That made you pause. "A Sjörå?"

"Yes." His voice was low, deliberate. "Beautiful. Enchanting. But dangerous." His fingers curled into the grass. "Luring men into the water…where they never return."

"And what if I that is exactly what I want?" You chuckled, wading deeper, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

He huffed, looking away, but not before you saw the hint of something heated in his gaze. "Then you are even more dangerous than I thought."

You rolled your eyes before you smiled again, soft and reassuring. "Come on. You will float. Trust me."

"You are really not going to let this go?" He asks.

You shook your head laughing.

His muscles were taut, his whole body coiled with resistance.

"Ivar," you said again, reaching up to gently cup his face, tracing along a scar on his cheekbone. "You just need to relax your body. I promise, I won’t let you sink."

He wanted to let go.

And with you—nude, beautiful, and patient before him, looking at him like he was worth trusting—he wanted to try.

Then, with a sharp inhale, he reached for the hem of his tunic.

His movements were stiff at first, hesitant, but then his clothes fell away, piece by piece, revealing him to you. He was strong, all lean muscle and sharp angles, his pale skin marked with old scars.

But it was his eyes that caught you the most. The way he looked at you—like you were something unreal, something he didn’t quite believe he could have.

You reached for his hand.

"Come," you whispered.

Ivar swallowed hard, his fingers twitching before finally—finally—he took yours.

You pulled him forward, guiding him into the water, the lake cool against his skin as it rose past his knees, his thighs, then his waist. He stiffened immediately, his grip on your hand tightening, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

Then, suddenly, his feet left the ground.

His body jerked, instinct kicking in as he grabbed onto you with both hands, his muscles locked with tension.

"I knew this was a bad idea—" he gasped, gripping you as if his life depended on it. His hands clutched desperately at your waist, his legs tensing beneath the water as he tried—failed—to find something solid beneath him.

"You are screaming like a little girl!" You teased, as he shot a dark look at you.

"Don't look at me like that, you can't kill me or else we will both die." You laughed, your arms wrapping instinctively around him as he clung to you. He moved fast—scared.

"If you push me down, I’m gonna drown right with you, Ivar!" you giggled, your voice full of warmth, of laughter.

"That’s not funny," he hissed, his voice a little higher than usual, his body stiff against yours.

You chuckled, holding him close, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart against your chest.

"Ivar, look at me...don't overthink it," you whispered, rubbing soothing circles along his back. "Just...feel."

"I can't relax—" he started, but you cut him off with a soft press of your lips against his jaw.

"I’m here," you whispered. "I won’t let anything happen to you."

Slowly—so, so slowly—you felt him begin to unwind. His grip on you loosened, just a fraction. His breathing steadied, just a little. His body, still tense, still hesitant, began to trust the way the water held him.

You smiled.

"See," you murmured, your fingers threading into the damp strands of his hair. "you're floating."

Ivar exhaled slowly, his eyes locking onto yours.

And then, you kissed him.

Softly at first, gently, as if pulling him further into ease. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your bare body against his, the kiss deepened, his lips parting beneath yours as he melted into you.

A low, shaky moan escaped him as your hands tangled in his hair, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you closer as if you were the only thing keeping him from sinking.

And maybe, in a way, you were.

You could feel his heartbeat against your own, no longer frantic—just there, steady and real.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He just held you, as if letting the silence say what he couldn’t.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it, he murmured, “I’ve never felt this way before.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. His eyes—so piercing, so intense—were softer now.

"What way?" You asked gently, your hand resting against his shoulders, feeling the slight tremble in his muscles.

He swallowed, his gaze darting away for a second before finding yours again.

"Like...like I could be wanted," he admitted, almost ashamed. "Like I could be...enough."

Your heart clenched.

“I’ve spent my whole life hearing what I can’t do. What I am not.” His jaw tensed, and for a moment, you saw the familiar hint of anger—of pain—beneath his expression.

"A cripple. A burden. A man who will never—” He cut himself off, shaking his head, his throat working as he swallowed back the rest of the words.

You cupped his face, gently, firmly, tilting his head so he had to look at you.

"You are everything," you whispered, your voice fierce, certain. "and I have wanted you for so long."

His breath hitched, his blue eyes searching yours, as if trying to find any trace of dishonesty.

"But...how?" His voice was so small, so unsure. “You could have anyone. Even great Jarls have asked for your hand. But you…” He hesitated, licking his lips. “You always said no.”

You smiled, tilting your head as your fingers trailed down the sides of his face, your touch gentle, cherishing.

"Because the Norns wove your name into the threads of my fate," you said softly, your gaze never wavering. "Odin himself could have offered me his throne, and I would still choose you. Not for power, not for glory—but because my soul has known yours since the beginning, as if we were forged together in the same fire that birthed Yggdrasil."

His lips parted slightly. The look on his face like in disbelief.

He stared at you, as if seeing you for the first time—not as a prize, but as something sacred.

"By the gods..." he breathed, voice rough with wonder.

"If the Norns truly wove us together, then let them bind me to you in every life to come. I would face Ragnarök a thousand times if it meant I could find you again."

Ivar inhaled deeply, like he was trying to commit this moment to memory—you and him in the water, wet hair clinging to your shoulders like silk, the feeling of your skin against his, your warmth, your words, your love.

"You are everything to me, Ivar." You whispered against his lips.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 　

Taglist (If you want to get added write/comment) 🪼

“N-nothing. I’m–” You cleared your throat and tried to give him the most honest smile possible. “I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine! Everything’s fine.” You nodded your head for good measure – perhaps a little too quick for it to be credible.

Before he could protest, you cupped his face and forced his lips down on yours. Hvitserk wasn’t one to complain. He hummed in approval, hands resuming their work and roaming over the soft skin of your thighs.

Trying to shut out your stupid thoughts and insecurities, you growled into his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his smooth tongue brushing against yours. You spread your trembling legs wider to welcome him.

You wanted this. Gods, you wanted this more than anything since the first time you laid eyes on them and heard about their habit to share their women. Being pressed between their powerful and warm bodies was the only fantasy that could get you off, fast and hard, in the privacy of your bed. And now that it was clearly happening, nervousness was ruining everything. Just because it was the first time you would be in bed with a man – two men in that case. It was a secret you stubbornly kept to yourself, even if admitting it would be the right thing to do and you knew it. But you feared that your inexperience would throw them off and that they would be not so willing to take you if they knew the truth.

When one of Hvitserk’s hands slithered under your gown and crept up your inner thigh – fully intending to reach your cunt – your whole body contracted, and your breathing became uneasy, forcing you to break the kiss with a loud and shaky gasp.

“Brother, wait.” Ubbe ordered firmly, his voice leaving no other option but to obey.

Hvitserk froze on top of you and cupped your thigh instead, stroking your burning skin back and forth as he glared at his brother, clearly displeased by the constant interruption.

“What is it?” He grunted.

Ubbe ignored him and stood up, made his way toward the bed and sat next to you. “I can see you’re uncomfortable. If you want this to stop, you can tell us. We won’t get mad.”

“N-No, I just drank a little too much, that’s all.” If you could, you would have struck yourself for the constant shake in your voice.

Your words didn’t seem to convince them – if anything, they made them frown harder.

Hvitserk tilted his head, squinting in suspicion. “You don’t seem drunk to me. Your mouth doesn’t even taste like ale. And my brother is right, you’re a bit… rigid.”

Slightly offended, you scoffed. You became more and more frustrated within seconds; frustrated by them and frustrated by yourself.

You finally snapped, letting out an irritated noise. “Can’t you two just fuck me already? I said I’m fine!”

The brothers’ eyes widened in surprise at your outburst. They looked at each other and left your question hanging as they seemed to talk to each other with their eyes only. Stupid brotherly thing.

When they turned their attention back on you, Hvitserk’s lips twitched as if he was trying to restrain a smile.

Before you could ask what was so funny, Ubbe gently cupped your cheek and turned your head toward him, thumb stroking your skin in an appeasing way. You couldn’t help but melt under this simple gesture.

“You’re our friend, love. We need you to be at ease with us. It’s no fun for any of us if you’re stiff, try to –”

Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Hvitserk exclaimed, “Wait, are you a virgin?” A large smile played on his lips, brows almost reaching his hairline as he watched you like he just resolved one of the biggest mystery ever.

Your heart skipped a beat and your facial expression pretty much matched Hvitserk’s – just without the smile. Your mouth bobbed like a fish instead, brain trying to find something clever to say to deny, but it was already too late. Your face talked a million time louder than any other word.

A giggle escaped Hvitserk’s mouth. His calloused hand on your thigh – that had stilled minutes before – restarted heavily petting and squeezing your skin more firmly.

Ubbe bit his lips, failing at restraining a smirk. “Is that true?” He asked smoothly.

Your face was on fire and a painful pressure bit your heart. “Don’t mock me.”

“We’re not mocking you – well, perhaps we’re are but only because you could have told us right at the beginning.” Hvitserk chuckled again, shaking his head slightly before leaning toward your ear and seductively whispering loud enough for Ubbe to hear, “If you had done that, you would already be screaming for us by now.”

His words sent burning tingles right between your legs and reflexively, you sought out his mouth. Hvitserk hungrily gave it to you, pushing his tongue past your lips in eagerness.

Another laugh coming from Ubbe made you break the kiss and lift your eyes toward him while Hvitserk resumed his kisses along your neck, slowly making his way down to the cleavage of your dress.

In a swift motion, Ubbe took his tunic off and carelessly threw it on the floor. “Well, that’s what I call an eventful night.” He winked before grabbing his cup and swallow the rest of its content. If anything, the secret of your virginity you thought shameful only seemed to make them hungrier for you.

You could barely concentrate on his words; his muscular torso making it hard to focus. Your fingers already twitched at the sight of it, desperately wanting to run over the hair between his pectorals and disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Ubbe wasted no more time and quickly climbed onto the mattress, lying on his side next to your trembling body.

His fingers wrapped around your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek in an affectionate touch. A shiver ran down your spine as his lips crooked into a knowing smile.

You were so lost in his comforting face that you didn’t feel Hvitserk’s hands starting to pull your dress up your legs urgently. His deep voice almost startled you.

“Arms up.” He hurried.

Ubbe’s grip tightened around your jaw as he slowly came closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours.

“Is that really the way you want to do your first time?” He asked again, just to make sure you were completely fine with what would happen next.

You rolled your eyes at him with a soft chuckle, fully intending to reassure him but Hvitserk was faster. He growled impatiently, eyes sending daggers at his brother.

“She has already told us the answer, brother. Now, let go of her so I can take off this fucking dress.”

Ubbe ignored his little brother’s heavy glare and kept his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m not asking you, Hvitserk. I’m asking her.” He said calmly. “Y/N?”

You impatiently nodded, “Yes, Ubbe. I want it. I want you both, please.”

Something shifted into Ubbe’s eyes. Before you knew it, his lips claimed yours hungrily, wrapping his large hand around your throat in a possessive grip to keep your head in place. You mewled at the softness of his lips and the taste of sweetness the ale left on his tongue. Your hand instinctively curled around the back of his neck, eagerly pressing his face closer. Ubbe took the opportunity to force the passage of his velvet tongue inside your mouth when you gasped at the harsh movements of his lips.

A growl erupted inside Hvisterk’s toned chest as he mumbled into the soft tissue of your dress something you recognized as ‘finally’ before grasping the hem of your dress again and pull it just under your chin. Ubbe broke the kiss with a wet sound, hands reaching at your gown to remove it totally, leaving it abandoned on the floor.

Both the arousal and the nerves left you trembling on the mattress, nipples already hardening under the hungry pairs of eyes of your lovers.

Hvitserk didn’t waste another second – he had been denied too long for his liking. He made his way down the curves of your body, leaving two wet kisses on each of your nipples before aiming for his goal – your sweet pussy. He urgently grabbed your legs by your knees and throw them on his broad shoulders, his erratic hot breath fanning directly over your slit.

“Have you ever been eaten out, love?” He asked playfully, mischievous eyes not leaving the delicious sight in front of him.

“No…” You breathed out, mesmerized by the foreign sight of his head so close to your tingling cunt.  

Hvitserk simply smirked and sent you a wink before burying his face between your thighs, warm tongue licking a broad strip along your wet folds. It felt like an electric shock. Your mouth fell open at the foreign sensation, breath catching inside your throat. Ubbe’s hot breath fanned over your cheek as he chuckled at your reaction, immediately followed by his brother.

“Come on, Hvitserk, show her what you can do.”

Hvitserk locked eyes with you before diving in directly for your clit. He sucked, licked, flicked at the sensitive nub mercilessly, mischievous blue eyes still wide open. The sounds that escaped your lips were unfamiliar, you could barely recognize your own voice. Your hips started to move against his face and Hvitserk hummed in approval against your aching clit. Your hands didn’t know where to go or what to do. They alternated between fisting the furs and waving uselessly in the air until Hvitserk grabbed your wrists and guided your fingers to his long and soft unbraided hair. You held on to it – hard. Voice becoming louder and higher, resounding in the chamber and surely in the corridors surrounding it too. But you couldn’t care less at this point.

“Look at the mess you’re making …” Ubbe whispered hotly into your ear, voice sending another wave of heat down your core. “Leaving his face wet and slick.”

At his brother’s words, Hvitserk growled and gently nipped the skin of your mound earning a strangled cry from you. One more flick of his skilled tongue and you were already coming, writhing and sobbing at the intensity of it until you had to weakly push his head away. Little whimpers left your mouth with each raspy breath. Eyes still closed from bliss, you jerked when his tongue gently gave your folds kitten licks in a soothing motion. You opened heavy eyelids, just in time to see Hvitserk happily sucking on his bottom lip with a pleased hum.

“And I didn’t even have to use my fingers.” He bragged to Ubbe, flashing his white teeth in a proud smile.

You would have rolled your eyes if you had had the strength, but the remains of your potent orgasm were still sending light electric shocks in your veins. You felt numb and warm. Ubbe chuckled, extending his arm to give his little brother a playful slap on his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, well done. But you also didn’t stretch her enough.”

Ubbe’s lips crashed onto yours before you could have the chance to catch your breath. His hand gave your hip a squeeze before sliding between your legs, gently spreading the moist gathered at your entrance around your folds.

“Are you ready?” He rasped.

“Yes, Ubbe.”

He carefully pushed his middle finger inside, sliding in at an incredibly slow pace in search for any resistance. He found none, Hvitserk’s magic tongue made sure of that. You could see the question into his bright eyes – are you all right? – and you responded with a confident smile, even dared to lift your hips into his hand.

Hvitserk – who was still lying on his belly between your legs – rubbed his nose into your mound, eyes closed, and eyebrows furrowed, before leaving a trail of wet kisses along your stomach up to your breasts.

Ubbe slipped another finger inside of you, gently pumping, scissoring and rubbing, eager to tear out of you those sweet sounds he had heard minutes before. And he did – clever fingers slowly driving you crazy. Your body wanted – needed more.

“Please… Fuck me.” You whined, all shame gone.

Ubbe smirked, eyes fixed on his fingers plunging deeper and quicker into your wetness, “Which one of us do you want, hum?”

“Both, I want you both.”

Hvitserk snorted, “Bold of you to assume you can handle double penetration the first time.”

This time you did roll your eyes, grunting in annoyance as they laughed whole-heartedly.

“You know what I mean!” You grumbled – then hiss when Ubbe slid his thumb along your folds to reach your sensitive clit.

“I’ll take you first.” He stated and pulled his fingers out. “Hvitserk doesn’t really have any self-control once he’s inside.” He smirked at his brother before tasting your juice off his digits.

“Hey! I have self-control. I’m not a beast!” Hvitserk exclaimed, perched on his elbows. You couldn’t help but laugh at his offended face, looking like a pouting puppy.

“I’ve seen you, brother, and believe me, you are.”

Even if their bickering lightened your mind, the ache between your things was still there. You didn’t even listen to Hvitserk’s response. Instead, you boldly reached for the hems of their pants, tugging hard to turn their attention back on you.

“I want these off.” You spoke firmly over him.

“Come take them off yourself.” Ubbe teased as he laid on his back next to you, immediately mimicked by his little brother.

You blushed both in shyness and arousal. In a hurry, you sat up on your heels to face them. A small amused smile playing on your face seeing these handsome men on their back for you. Their noticeable bulges of their breeches making you salivate. With a shaking hand, you reached first for Ubbe, slowly grabbing the laces tightly bound. With one pull, you undid them and grabbed the waistband to gently push the fabric down his muscular legs to throw it alongside your dress.

His shaft stood proud on his abs, tip already glistening with arousal. He was decently long, enough to make you wonder if every inch of him could fit inside of you. Your eyes met his. He had a boyish smile his face, eyes partially shut as he gauged your reaction.

A throaty sound was heard, coming from Hvitserk who waited not so patiently. His eyebrows lifted up as to say, ‘what about me’? You walked on your knees toward him, laughing when his face broke out in an incredibly large smile. Without wasting time, you quickly untied his breeches, sliding it down his thighs. Hvitserk helped you by quacking his legs in the air to take it off himself. He didn’t even give you time to admire his body; his hand urgently grasped your hip, trying to pull you onto his hips. A hot rush flooded your core at his eagerness and you found yourself giving in – only to be stopped by a strong arm wrapping around your waist.

“Me first, brother. We agreed to that.”

A loud whine left his mouth, but Hvitserk complied. Ubbe huffed into your ear, murmuring low enough for only you to hear, “I told you, no self-control.” His mouth left wet kisses down your neck, prominent erection pressing against your ass.

You didn’t mind it one bit. But you almost felt guilty not to give yourself to Hvitserk first just by looking at his soft frustrated face.

“Maybe I can touch him. I mean… while you fuck me, Ubbe.”

Hvitserk’s face lit up, a cocky smile crooking his rosy lips. Ubbe sighed then chuckled, nodding in the crook of your neck, “If you can focus enough, I don’t see any issues.”

With that, he laid you down the bed, rapidly getting on top of you. In pure instinct, your legs wrapped around his hips. ‘Eager thing’ you heard Ubbe hissing under his breath. One of his hands crawled back between your legs as the other supported his weight. Thick fingers probed at your entrance once more, stubbornly making sure you were wet enough. He then grabbed a clay pot on his nightstand before covering his cock with oil. Hvitserk seemed unsure to where the best position for him would be; he just wanted your hand on his cock – as quickly as possible.

He eventually decided to sit just next to your head, back against the headboard. You finally have quite a view of his shaft from this angle – a little smaller than Ubbe’s but just as thick. Tip a dark red, so dark you wondered if it was hurting him. Carefully, you reached for it, sliding two fingers against the sticky liquid coming from it. It took Hvitserk by surprise, making him jerked and cussed under his breath. His hand grabbed yours a little too roughly, and forced your fingers closed around his girth. Ubbe handed him the pot which he quickly took and bent to pour oil onto his cock, not caring if half of it went on the sheets.

Your hand started to move slowly and steadily, trying different type of pressure.

“Yes,” Hvisterk hissed between his gritted teeth. “Just like that, kitten.”

His eyes were locked on your hand – only to lose focus when you started going faster, careful not to leave out the head of his cock. His head fell back and bumped the wall as he groaned – a sound going straight to your still empty and aching pussy.

Ubbe was patiently waiting for you to turn back your attention to him, letting his little brother enjoy a bit – because he knew that once he would get inside you, you would be too overwhelmed to focus on your movements.

“Ubbe…” You whispered urgently, digging your heels into his plump butt cheeks.

He nodded, a bit relieved. He could feel his patience running low.

“You want me to do it fast or slow?” He rasped.

If it was going to hurt, you wanted all the pain in one go.

“Fast, please.”

The prince between your legs took hold of his solid cock and lined himself, gave a few rubs along your slit before plunging into your cunt, hips colliding harshly with yours.

You let out a strangled scream and your nails dug into Hvitserk’s thighs, making him hiss in pain.

Ubbe growled deep in his throat, eyes shut tight as he tried not to ram into your tightness and have some restrain to give you time to stretch enough for him. He’s not a beast – that’s what he liked to say. But at this moment, he very much wanted to give in to his primal instinct.

“Alright?” He forced the words between his gritted teeth.

“Yes!” You squealed, “You can move.”

Ubbe’s chest deflated as he exhaled in relief. He dug his fists on each side of your body before starting to thrust.

“Fuck…” He whispered.

Your walls welcomed him so good, so warm – all he wanted was to grip beneath your soft thighs, fold you in two and pound into your cunt. Soon, he thought. He didn’t want to hurt you. Instead, he built a rhythm, slow and steady.

Soft moans came out between your parted and swollen lips with each thrust Ubbe gave you. The burn of his girth was still present, but it was fading. It wasn’t unpleasant, and you were too busy at admiring your prince to care. Ubbe looked like a god, moving with practice above you. His single and long braid wrapped on one shoulder, bouncing with the movement of his body. Abs and biceps contracting every time his hips met yours. But what you liked the most was his face – brows furrowed, eyes shut tight and lips parted, panting rashly. He looked frustrated and you wondered what you could do something to ease his features.

Your hand found his cheek, stroking his beard lovingly. His eyes opened, immediately softening when you smiled at him.

“How does it feel?” It wasn’t Ubbe’s but Hvitserk’s voice that spoke into your ear.

You had almost forgotten he was there. Your hands had long ago stopped tending to his abandoned cock.

“Feels good, so good.” You moaned, hand reaching for Hvitserk’s shaft pressed against his abs.

But he stopped you, gripping your wrist. “As much as I want your little hand on my cock, kitten, I feel like you wouldn’t do a good job with Ubbe between your legs.” He smirked, looking at his brother plunging deep inside you.

You frowned, feeling a little insulted and open your mouth to protest. Whatever word you were going to say was swallowed when Ubbe gave you a sharp thrust. You squealed beneath him, hips raising in instinct. Suddenly, his movement became more aggressive, going faster and meeting your skin in a loud clap sound that resounded into the room. Your breath was stuck into your throat and your eyes widening at the sudden and intense sensation. Your hand clawed at his back as the other found Hvitserk’s hand, crushing his fingers.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” The younger brother chuckled.

He brought your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss before leaning to claim your lips hungrily. You whimpered into his mouth under Ubbe’s hard pace. Then, Hvitserk went straight for your bouncing breasts, burying his head in between before capturing a nipple into his hot mouth. His clever fingers found your clit. Your back arched, one hand tracing red angry lines down Ubbe’s back as the other pulled at Hvitserk’s hair. Moans turning into screams. It only seemed to fuel the brothers’ lust more. Hvitserk whimpered into your breasts as his hips rutted against the furs to try and ease the ache of his cock. Ubbe pounded into you with abandon, grunts and moans loud and clear, mixing beautifully with your own sounds.

“Ub-Ubbe…” You panted, feeling your orgasm building.

He growled at the sweet sound of your voice calling for him. He didn’t forget his fantasy and was well determined to accomplish it before the tingling in his balls became too much and his orgasm crashed over him.

He not so kindly patted his brother shoulder and rasped, “Let go of her.”

Hvitserk wailed softly against the skin of your breast before complying half-heartedly. You didn’t have time to see his next movement that Ubbe wrapped his arms beneath your knees and pushed your legs against your torso. This new angle made you see stars, eyes rolling in the back of your head. The wave of pleasure hit you brutally and you cried out, hands fisting the furs on the bed.

Ubbe couldn’t restrain his orgasm any longer and followed, howling into your ear. He shot his seed deep and heavy inside you before releasing your legs on his sides and collapsing head first between your breasts.

Exhaling deeply in bliss, you caressed his nape gently with your nails. Ubbe gave you a loving smile and pressed his lips against yours.

“Alright?” He asked again.

“Yes, I’m fine. More than fine, actually.” You giggled as he peppered kisses all over your face.

“My turn.” Hvitserk rasped, desperation into his voice.

You looked at him. He had his fist wrapped around his hard cock and was stroking ever so slowly not to trigger his own release. Ubbe hadn’t forgotten his brother. He could only imagine how much he was aching to touch you. Quickly, he pulled out, taking just one more second to himself to watch his cum dripping down your folds before rolling on his back with a content sigh.

“I’m all yours, Hvitserk.” You moaned. Seeing how patient he had been and how his face looked so desperate triggered something in you – you just wanted to please him.

You approached him on all four and straddled his thighs. Hvitserk let himself fall on his back, hands urgently gripping your hips, surely leaving the mark of his digits. A little unsure, you raised on your knees to hover over his leaking cock. And before you could make any moves, Hvitserk pushed you down, raising his hips at the same time. You both yelped, and you had to steady yourself with your hands on his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes! Finally!” He grunted.

He looked so good beneath you. Chest glistening with sweat, eyes unfocused, hair a beautiful mess on the pillows and delicious sounds leaving his plump lips. You just wanted to kiss him. But you couldn’t do much movements as he painfully held your hips in his hands and rammed into you from below. He wasn’t going to last long, you could say. Wanting to help him find his much-deserved release, you tightened your walls, examining his face to see his reaction.

“Shit, shit, do that again.” He ordered urgently.

You happily complied, whining at the delicious feeling of his shaft.

“I want to make you come too.”

You wanted to say that it wasn’t a competition but Hvitserk was faster, already wetting his thumb and circled your clit skillfully. Your entire body contracted, nails digging into his flesh to cope with the sudden pressure exploding into your body.

“Hvitserk!” Head thrown back, you shrieked.

And just as his big brother did, Hvitserk spilled his warmth with a shout, coating your walls. You felt giddy and not an ounce of strength was left in your body. Hvitserk’s arms slithered around your waist and pulled you down onto his chest. His hand stroked your back, calming the shudders shaking your body.

“Next time, I’m going to take my time with you.” He promised.

Being so warm and satisfied was quickly making you fall asleep. A pair of lips kissed your forehead before hands gently pulled you from Hvitserk only to have your back pressed against another muscular chest. Soft furs were placed onto your body. Another body slithered his way under the covers and snuggled against your breasts. You felt one last kiss on your head before you feel into a deep slumber.