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Sunday Morning, a typical day to be lazy as one could. Especially in the morning. With no rush to leave the bed, stretched out against the lush bedding. A cosy oasis of sorts. Warm, welcoming, and holding you captive – or so it would seem.

Rolling over to find the warm body of Sihtric replaced with a bouquet of pink tulips, you smile and reach for the flowers. The man moves like a ghost, no sound or trace. Quiet, as if he could float undetected throughout the house. A skill he had picked up over the years that had served him well, or so he told, yet never why or how he had picked up such a talent. You pull the flowers closer, inhaling the scent almost as vibrant as the colours.

On the pillow is a pink piece of paper, in Sihtric's near perfect handwriting you read : Breakfast in the garden, bring your smile and appetite.

Sihtric had a bit of a thing for breakfast in the garden, who could blame him? It was the most romantic space in your home. Although it was by no means big, it was tranquil and relaxed, when you stepped into the garden first thing in the morning – it was like the rest of the world seemed to disappear.

Picking up your robe from the chair next to the window, you peeked through the blind at the sun cascading through the trees, leaves moving in the breeze. A picture perfect morning to unwind and start the day in a slow moving fashion. Tying the belt of your robe, you take a second to enjoy the silkiness on your bare skin. Still not bothered to get dressed fully, after shedding your clothing across the bedroom at the hands of the handsome Dane in your kitchen.

The delicious smell from the kitchen greeted you, as your feet softly land against the cool tiles in the hall. You didn't have to say a word, Sihtric had heard the bedroom door open and was ready to greet you.

“Good morning.” Sihtric sang out, against the quiet classical playing in the background. Around his legs, as always, was the orange cat with the greenest eyes. Never far from Sihtric, Citron purred loudly.

“Good morning.” You sigh, placing the large bouquet of flowers on top of the work space. “I don't suppose you know how these got in bed with me?”

“Ah, it must have been the gnomes.” a smirk lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling – one soft hazel and the other a brilliant greenish. “Do you like them?”

“I do.” Pulling at the edge of the soft robe, you find yourself shivering despite it not being cold. You had been cosy in bed, leaving it had been a bit of a chore. Although, you were certain it was worth it by the look and smell of what Sihtric was up to.

“Breakfast is almost ready, I have your tea steeping, in the meantime why don't you head out and take a seat.” Dark curls pushed away from his face, as he concentrated on getting the omelette just right.

“Breakfast, flowers, and you've made my tea? Charming, aren't you.” teasing him, you place a kiss on his cheek and he winks playfully shooing you out to the table on the patio.

Four years since you had been set up with Sihtric, courtesy of your friend Thyra. Funnily enough, her husband Beocca seemed to hate Sihtric – but that didn't deter Thyra from assuring you that he was one of the kindest people she had ever met. One of the most handsome as well. Walking into the small cafe, you had been told that he was tall, with dark curls on one side of his head – odd but whatever – and the most charming smile.

Immediately you spotted a man with one side of his head shaved, the most gorgeous dark curls cascading across the other. A shy smile and a nervous stammer is how he had greeted you. Sihtric had been a bit skeptical, but he trusted Thyra. Even if he hated the idea of a blind date.

Thyra had raved about you, whenever somebody mentioned Sihtric and his life as a bachelor. Determined that the two of you would be the greatest couple, the sweet and endearing redhead had been right. Like most things, Thyra had a knack for being right. She also had a knack for being a wonderful matchmaker.

Two years together, Sihtric had asked you to marry him. A little over a year ago the two of you had gotten married in a three day celebration. Some how, you had allowed your friends to talk you into such a party. Never the less, it had been a grand three days. By the time it wrapped up on the Sunday evening, Sihtric swore that he never wanted to see another party so long as he lived.

Stepping out into the back garden, you can't help but smile when you see that Sihtric is already prepared. The table is set with an array of dishes, covered in linen tea towels to keep the bugs away. Had he gone out before you woke? Or had he been hiding pastries on the very top shelf of the pantry again? Often times, when he wanted to surprise you, he'd take the extra time to hide things on the very top shelf, knowing that you would never look there. Hell, even Sihtric needed a stool to reach the damn thing.

In the kitchen, Sihtric was content to hum along with Vivaldi's Spring from Four Seasons, as he finished off breakfast. You could hear him chatting away with Citron, as he often did. You would joke that in your home the level of priority for Sihtric was as followed : Citron and then Wife. Sometimes it would rank Citron, his motor cycle, then Wife.

Sihtric would hear you say such a thing and roll his eyes. Always insisting that you came before anything else, although some times Citron was first. But you definitely came in before his motor cycle.

You had married a clever man.

On the table was the Sunday paper, although you rarely read it, Sihtric would leave it out just in case you had changed your mind. Picking it up to read the dismal headlines, you sigh and let it fall back onto the table. The fluttering paper causing a soft thud as it landed back on the wood. The world was something to be desired, which meant hiding away in your garden was the perfect escape.

Back here where the real world was unable to reach you.

Sihtric had worked hard designing the perfect escape right outside of the kitchen door.

From the little oasis in the garden, you could somewhat see the backside of your neighbour's home. Their windows facing into your garden, yet hidden from ground level by the hedges that Sihtric had decided to plant. They would add a bit more privacy, he'd insisted they go in before anything else. Growing nicely, they certainly had been doing their job.

Birds chirping and the odd buzzing of a bee, breakfast in the garden was truly a good idea. Closing your eyes for a moment, you listen to the sounds. From the open kitchen window, you can hear Sihtric working away. Pans creating a dull clang, and the music softly escaping.

Lost in your own thoughts, you failed to hear the door sliding open. A slight startle when Sihtric's voice was so close to you, opening your eyes you look at your husband who has a wide grin.

“Did you sleep well?” Sihtric asked, calling Citron to the door.

Reaching for the tie out leash, Sihtric securely snapped it to the yellow harness that the cat wore. It was a gorgeous morning and Citron deserved to enjoy it as well. As usual, you rolled your eyes and smiled at the man you loved. He spoiled that cat.

“I did. Although, I really wished that you'd stayed in bed longer.” You smile as the cat wanders along the patio, searching for some bugs to hunt.

“I'm sorry, I was restless. I know that you don't sleep with me tossing and turning.” He apologised, kissing your cheek and giving your shoulders a squeeze. “Besides, I thought you deserved a nice rest. You were pretty exhausted last night.”

“And whose fault is that?” You playfully chide.

Leaning over your shoulder, Sihtric's lips inches from your ear, his breath hot on your neck. “I didn't hear you complain.”

“Never.” Shaking your head with a deep chuckle, you turn to look at him. His dark hair tousled and eyes bright, he is loving every second of this as he kisses you. “Now, since Citron is out, and I have been waiting, where is my breakfast?”

“Demanding.” Sihtric tutted and pouted. “I will bring it out in a moment.”

Disappearing back into the house, his kiss lingering, you peek through the door as he waltzes around the kitchen. Approaching the door with a large tray, piled with plates, a tea pot, and various other items Sihtric returns to the patio. Placing the tray down before you on the table, he extends his arms and smiles wide.

“M'lady. Breakfast.”

“Did you cook everything in the house?” You tease reaching for the tea pot, pouring your first cup of the morning. How you had survived this long, a mystery. Most mornings, nobody dares to look at you before a cup of tea.

“Not everything, but almost.” Reaching for a plate, he places it before you. Kissing your cheek, he gestures to your favourite omelette. “I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed. Besides, we both know that most of this is going to be eaten.”

“I swear, some days I wonder about you.” You tease, taking a sip of tea.

Sitting diagonally from you, Sihtric pours his cup of tea and blows out a breath. Pretending to be exhausted from making such a breakfast. In his favourite cat mug, he adds a tiny bit of milk to his tea and licks his lips. Much better.

Citron meowed from his spot under the hammock, where he had stalked a bug. Lazing in the shade, the yellow cat yawned and stretched out. Sihtric chuckled and raised in his chair, checking to make sure his precious baby was doing okay. Rolling your eyes, you smile at him and shake your head.

It was your second date that Sihtric had told you about his furry little friend. A small, yellow ball of fluff, Citron had almost fit in Sihtric's hand. You had caught on fairly early, if you were to keep the man, then you must accept the cat – done. Easy enough. You loved them both, how could you not?

“He looks happy.” You comment around a bite of breakfast.

“He is very happy. As am I.”

“Good to know.”

“Do we have any plans for today?” Picking up a segment of orange, Sihtric looks at you as if he expected you to have some sort of diabolical agenda for the day to come.

“Dishes? Maybe a nap after we devour all of this?” You smirk, wiping your napkin across the corner of your mouth. “Not really. Were you thinking of something?”

“Not really. Maybe stay in? Get naked? Watch a movie?” Sihtric raised his brow, a grin plastered to his face. “We could also go for a walk, but not naked, or the art market. Is that today?”

Promising to double check on the art market, after breakfast, you can't help but sigh in contentment. This has to be the near perfect morning.

“Gods, you are gorgeous.” Sihtric muttered, leaning back in his chair as he observed you.

Tea cup raised, as you looked out across the back garden, the morning sun hitting you at just the right angle. A soft sigh slipped through your lips, as you raised your cup of tea, taking a sip. Licking your lips and placing the cup on the saucer. Sihtric was enamoured and completely enchanted.

If you had heard his compliment then you were playing it cool.

Sihtric often said such things because he adored the way it would fluster you. You would sputter and roll your eyes, telling him that he was foolish, despite his insisting that every bit of it was the truth. Some times, he knew that you failed to see yourself as he did. In turn, he often times didn't see the same man that you did, when he stood in front of the mirror.

“You're silly.” You commented with a coy grin.

A gentle breeze rustled through the trees above you, causing your skin to raise with tiny goose bumps. Pulling the robe a little closer together at the top, you felt the breeze go straight through you. Leaning over to pour another cup of tea, it was then Sihtric realised that there was nothing between your body and the robe.

“Come over here and I'll warm you up.” Sihtric tapped his knee.

There were times when Sihtric would look at you with pure lust, akin to an animal pacing their cage and waiting to pounce. A man who was miles away as he watched you move. Like a man from another time and place, gauging what kind of intriguing and strange woman you were. As you stood, you feel his eyes roaming you.

Shivering, you pull the robe tighter cursing your decision to not get dressed, properly. Cup of tea in hand, you take a sip of the warm liquid and make yourself comfortable on his lap.

“Better?”

“Much.” You nod and kiss his cheek.

Hand sliding between the opening of your robe, Sihtric nudges your thighs apart with his hand. Cupping you, he grazes a finger between your folds, causing you to squirm against his hand. Breathing slightly heavier, you raise your cup of tea with a tiny tremor in your hand.

“Stand for a second.” instructing, he gently pushes you from his lap as you huff. Pulling down the front of his sweats, he releases his cock, looking at you with an air of innocence. Rolling your eyes, you should have known there would be a catch. Encouraging you to lift your robe before sitting back down, Sihtric smirks.

“Sihtric, what if people hear?” You hiss as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. Your protest was weak and he knew it. God, how good he felt filling you. Each inch more pleasurable than the last as you stretched around him.

“If you behave, they will be none the wiser.” He shrugs, enjoying the feeling of your body on his.

This certainly isn't the first time that the two of you have sat out on the patio in such a state. One reason for the large hedges, you were certain, was for this very reason. One thing about Sihtric was his taste for – unconventional sex. Nothing too dramatic, a bit of cock warming while you sat out by the fire or indulged in breakfast.

Leaning forward to reach for your plate, you made sure to wiggle around a tiny bit. Sihtric sighed and steadied his hand as he tried to take a drink of his tea. The last thing he wanted to do was spill it and burn you. Placing his cup down with an unsteady hand, he clenched his fist and slowly exhaled, closing his eyes.

He is the one who put you into this position.

Now he would have to suffer his consequences.

Oh how he enjoyed that part the most.

Steadying your movements, you continued to pick away at breakfast. Neither of you bothering to address the fact that your husband was now nestled inside of you. Sipping tea and talking about the day to come, as if it were the most common thing. Sometimes, it was.

Licking his lips, Sihtric softly brushes a few pastry crumbs from your shoulder. You turn to glance at him, with a small smile. Offering the piece of cheese that you'd picked up. Inhaling deeply, you can feel every inch of his hard cock inside of you. From the outside it appeared to be nothing more than a couple, in love, enjoying the first meal of the day.

A hand placed around your waist, Sihtric sighs and subtly moves his hips forward. Moaning softly, you bite down hard into the piece of kiwi that was on your fork.

“Easy.” He teases.

“Is this your way of telling me that breakfast is over?”

“Not at all.” He reaches around you, picking up another piece of cheese and a slice of apple. “I don't know about you, but I am still ravenous.”

“Mm.” You hum and nod, shifting your hips to create a small amount of friction between you. “Okay then.”

“You are stunning.” His voice echoes in your ear, casting a smile across your face at the compliment.

Sihtric is taking this far better than you are. The longer you sit here, the harder it is to concentrate. Each subtle movement leaves you wanting more. Every breath, your eyelids flutter and you suppress a deep moan. As if last night hadn't been enough, you were ready for him to once again bend you over. Between your thighs, the bite marks from last night suddenly began to throb and your body grew warmer at the thoughts of how he had taken control, using you in whatever ways he wished.

Broad and muscular back hidden by that damn tshirt, you knew the scratches from your nails were still visible. The sharp bites that you had left against his ribs, followed by a fleet of kisses were no doubt visible too. In your head, Sihtric's voice, heavy with desire, as he had nearly begged to fill you. Opting to finish the job with him in your mouth, you had nearly crawled out of your own skin when he got lost in the moment, pulling your hair and fucking your face.

“Did you hear me?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“Huh?”

“I was asking, after this, what should we do? You were miles away, though.” His laugh amused and his voice soft.

“I uh.” You feel your cheeks growing warm. Why not ask him for that you want? “I was thinking, do you have any idea how much I want you to knock me up, right now?”

“Y-you what?” His brow creased and his palms went clammy. “Really?”

“Why not?” Turning to look over your shoulder at your husband, your tone nonchalant.

“Seriously?” Taken back, Sihtric clears his throat and tilts his head in curiosity. What brought this on? Normally, you would huff at him and tell him, firmly, No!

“We've been talking about it.”

“Are you saying this to be funny, or being serious? If you don't want to then...”

“Sihtric, are you going to knock me up or not? We don't have all day. The neighbours will be home from church, soon. I doubt they want to walk into the back garden and see us.” Your voice holds a hint of humour.

“Maybe they'd like to watch?”

“Don't be an ass. Either you're going to cum in me or not. Make up your mind.” You lock eyes with him. “Before I change mine.”

Groaning, Sihtric's head leaned back as you began to grind your hips into him. Slowly riding against him, your body causing his to give in to whatever you demanded. Humming in the back of his throat, he nodded and closed his eyes.

He had been wanting this, almost, more than anything.

Albeit, he hadn't thought it would be over breakfast in the back garden.

Hands sliding inside of your robe, Sihtric rests his palms against your hips. Fingers pinching the skin, as he thrust upwards. Leaning back into him, you wrap your arm around his neck, bringing his lips to yours. Fingers tangled into the back of his dark curls, an airy chuckle escapes as he pulls you against him, doing his best to fuck you without knocking over the table or creating too much noise.

This is certainly a little riskier than you are used to. Moaning into the kiss, you feel your body pulse with each stroke he makes. Eyes closed, you can't help the squeal of pleasure that erupts as his hips meet yours. Each movement leaves you wondering how long this can last, how long the two of you can go, and whether or not you will be finished by the time the neighbours return from church.

One by one, the thoughts begin to make this even sexier than you could have imagined.

Sihtric had been dropping hints for months about wanting to expand your family, nervous about the idea of children, you had been holding him off for as long as you could. The sudden change of mind had been one that you'd been combing over for weeks. Whether or not it was the right time? Would you even be a decent mother? Whatever had shifted had done so in the blink of an eye.

A grunt and a soft moan, Sihtric couldn't deny how good you felt wrapped around him. Moving your body against his, you continue to lean into him. His mind racing and heart thumping against his ribs. Fuck he had waited for this moment.

“Fuck, this is the sexiest thing I have ever done.”

“You want to fill me? Make sure everyone knows who this belong to?”

“I can't wait to see you round with my fucking seed.”

“That's it, yeah, don't stop baby.”

His hips rose, thrusting into you. Trying your best not to scream out, the last thing you needed was a nosy neighbour hearing you and coming over. Or worse, calling about a woman in distress. You moan softy, grinding your hips to his. Hands splayed across your abdomen, Sihtric leans forward, biting down on your shoulder. Your robe stopping the sharp pinch of his teeth.

“Fuck, mama. I can't believe you're letting me do this.” He grunts and pushes his hips forward hard. Jolting you into the table, you grab the sides and steady it and yourself. “You ready to cum for me, kitten?”

“Y-Yes.” You nod and find your voice.

“Good girl.”

Holding you down, his cock deep inside of you, pulsing as your walls began to clench around him. A sparse sweat coating you, causing you to cool in the light breeze. Sihtric held back a shout, with one final thrust, emptying everything he had. Gods, he couldn't wait to watch you grow. The idea of getting you pregnant had been playing on his mind, everything about the thought drove him crazy and made him hard. On one end it was the aspect of knowing you were his and there was no denying it. On the other, a baby. Sihtric relished in the idea of being a father, someone to raise and send out into the world, to hopefully help it become somewhat of a better place.

“Shit, baby.” You whimper, feeling the combination of your orgasm and his leaking around the base of his cock, covering his balls and leaving the front of his sweats damp. “You really were excited.”

No intentions of moving from your spot on his lap, you take a moment to catch your breath, adjusting the front of your robe as to not flash any neighbours. Reaching for your slightly cooled tea, you gulp it down enjoying the blissful feeling of his wet cock still inside of you – where you fully intend to keep him, until after breakfast.

“Holy shit. Babe, did we just...” Chuckling in disbelief, Sihtric's sweaty forehead rests against your shoulder. Leaning back into him, you feel the small sigh slip from your lips. Lips brushing against your shoulder through your robe, he hums. “Well, breakfast may be cold, but I feel like we've worked up that appetite.”

“Maybe we need to finish breakfast and go shower?” You muse, picking up another orange segment, taking a bite and offering the rest to Sihtric.

Taking the rest of the orange, he chews thoughtfully, followed by a grin. “We could skip the shower and go straight for that nap.”

“Or we could finish breakfast and head out for a walk? I am sure there is a quiet place, under a tree where we could...relax?” Your smile devious and your eyes bright. “I could sit on your lap and you could read to me?”

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Sihtric rolls his eyes. “You are the best and worst influence that I had ever had. Remind me, on our anniversary, I need to send Thyra a thank you card.”

Cheers erupted, and the joyous reaction made you realize Lord Uhtred had come early. A familiar flush spread to your cheeks, anticipation making your pulse race, but you tried to keep your composure—you were promised to another man.

Ronja emitted an excited squeal as she jumped to her feet and peeked out the small window. She was young and painfully ‘in love’ with the Irishman Finan in Lord Uhtred's command. He was married and notoriously taken with his wife, but Ronja was only fifteen years, and firmly believed the warrior would leave his wife for her. You often envied her ignorance of how the world worked, but not her naivety.

“Go,” you chuckled, teasingly swatting her with a cloth. The toothy grin spread wider as she giggled gleefully, and you could not help but be affected by her zest. “I'll hold down the fort. Go on.”

Ronja happily did as you said and was gone as quickly as a flash of lightning. You thought about watching through the window to catch a glimpse of your lover, but decided against it—you would not be able to feel the warmth of his embrace just yet anyway.

Sighing, you shook off the remains of your grin and left the mountain of potato peels you had built over the hours, cleaning your hands in the washing bowl.

A floorboard creaked behind you, and just as you were about to turn, a callous set of hands on your waist spun you around, startling you before the owner crashed his lips to yours in a heated, impassioned kiss.

You instinctively pushed the man away, prepared to sound the alarm, but he stepped back, allowing the sight of his presence to sink in.

“Sihtric!” you gasped, hand on your heart as you blinked up at him, the mixture of a relieved and confused sound bubbling from your throat. “You startled me!”

Sihtric laughed heartily, and you felt dizzy with the overwhelming joy that engulfed you.

“Did you not hear the ruckus outside?” he grinned and pulled you close again, mismatched eyes gleaming down at you as he took you in, large hands squeezing your waist.

“I-I did—but I did not…” You shook your head, grounding yourself against his plated chest as you tried to accept the fact that he was truly there. He had come for you. “I was afraid it would hurt to see you out there, not being able to feel you also.”

“Oh, you can feel me, alright,” he chuckled mischievously, pressing his hardening crotch against your belly, making you blush. “Did you miss me?”

“Immensely,” you smirked, dreamily feeling his lips ghost yours teasingly.

A hum of appreciation reverberated from his chest, and he connected your lips once again, hungrily licking into your wanting mouth.

You moaned in response, keening in relief as a heat rushed over you like a tidal wave. It was always easy to lose yourself to Sihtric, his demanding yet caring touch so alluring it was difficult to think straight.

It was the seemingly intensifying cheers from outside that forced you to steel yourself, and you reluctantly stepped back, a small whine barely making it past your lips.

“Sihtric,” you sighed, choking on reality. “Someone might see.”

It was always with a heavy heart that you reminded him. Despite your love for one another, you simply could not be. Although you were promised to the miller's son, it had seemed impossible to stay away from Sihtric, regardless of the pending vows which you could not impede. Once, when Sihtric first declared his love for you, he had asked you to run away with him. Though the idea of a life where he was fully yours, everything you could ever need, you had solemnly declined. He was a warrior at heart—you refused to be the one who made him turn his back on his lord and friend, who broke the loyalty that made him the man he was.

However, this time he returned with an opportunity that could change your path.

“About that…” he drew out, inhaling deeply as he reached for your hands. A crease cut between your brows as you braced for his words, fearing the worst. “Lord Uhtred wanted to reward me for my efforts in Strath Clota, so I asked for a wife.”

Your stomach dropped, a dreading apprehension blanketing your face, but Sihtric continued before you could spin out.

“But so as not to be presumptuous, and in case I have completely misread your affection, instead I asked that you be absolved from your engagement,” he explained carefully, eyes attentive as he watched realization set in. The glimpse of hope and bewilderment made his heart flutter, and he went on: “Uhtred agreed. I want you as my wife, but your hand has already been forced once. I wish for you to choose me to be yours.”

A ragged gasp stuttered from your throat—a choice. You could not imagine a world where you would not favor being forced into Sihtric's arms; however, to think that he had made sure you had a say in the matter, to choose independently—it only made your love grow as tears of joy welled up in your eyes.

“I choose you, Sihtric! By God, I choose you!” you rejoiced, swinging your arms around his shoulders as you jumped into his embrace. You merrily showered him with kisses as you clung to him, your pulse racing with excitement as you felt the heavy weight of an undesired future vanish. “Or by your gods! I—it does not matter, so long as I am with you!”

Sihtric captured your lips with passion, trying to suppress the gratified laugh that pulled his lips tight. He merrily spun you around before your feet met the ground once again, toes only just brushing as he continued to hold you close. Smiling down at you, he grinned boyishly. “That's a relief.”

Chuckling, a flicker of worry crossed your mind, but it was not enough to ruin your happiness—nothing could do that now. “Thurstan will not be happy.”

“I know. I look forward to being the one to tell him,” Sihtric smirked wickedly, knowing he would take great satisfaction in the outrage that would follow.

You slapped his chest and tried to hide your grin. “Don't be cruel now.”

Sihtric laughed cheekily before hungrily kissing you, coarse hands squeezing your arse, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he lifted.

His tongue traced along the seam of your lips, and you parted them invitingly, sighing in contentment. It had been so long; you had nearly forgotten how he tasted like home, like everything that was good in this life. You hummed softly as the kiss deepened, hands tracing up his back and into his hair, nails scratching the spot that never failed to elicit a groan from him.

You did not notice his feet moving until your back met the wall, the rough bricks scratching against your clothes, but you did not care. Sihtric had returned to you, and he was finally yours.

His hands roamed your curves with a deliberate reverence, as if only the feeling of your flesh in his palms might prove the moment to be real. A ragged breath escaped you as his lips trailed down your jaw and to your throat, latching onto the spot below your ear he knew would drive you out of your mind. His beard tickled the sensitive skin in the most delicious manner, and you moaned, instinctively grinding against him to soothe the growing need throbbing between your legs.

“Sihtric,” you panted heavily, fingers bunching in his hair while your other hand nudged his chin upward. “Take me to your bed.”

Sihtric emitted a low groan; the lust in your tone only increased the bloodflow to his cock. He cheekily squeezed your behind, and you slid back down, barely reaching your toes before he led you out of the kitchens and back to his home. It was the first time you entered without a care for who might see.

Sihtric wasted no time undressing you once the door was shut, eager hands stripping the layers separating you as you needily surrendered yourself to his touch.

“Gods, my love. You have no idea how much I missed you.”

A gasp tore from your throat when his lips latched onto your taut nipple, wrapping around the sensitive bud and sucking, tongue flicking across in teasing swipes. Your nails scratched mindlessly down the broad plane of his back, mind already hazy with the promise of a future together. “Please, Sihtric—I need to feel you.”

As much as Sihtric enjoyed taking his time with you, he was unable to restrain himself under your begging breath. You had been apart for far too long.

The rest of the clothes separating you were haphazardly discarded on the floor. Without warning, Sihtric lifted you by the back of your thighs, and you shuddered breathlessly as you felt his throbbing cock nudge against your entrance. Placing you on the bed, his hard length pushed in as he hunched over you, emitting a strangled moan when your walls clamped around him.

“H-uum!”

Sihtric did not hold back when your cunt swallowed him so well. He immediately bucked into you, hips thrusting forward with an intensity that made your body jolt with every move. His thickness stretched your walls deliciously, a stinging sensation tickling up your spine from the emptiness he had left you with for months.

Holding on to him, you cried his name as he mercilessly rammed into your slickness, the lewd sounds of squelches and your wanton moans filling the room. 

“Gods, I missed this,” Sihtric muttered into your neck where he had buried his head. “Missed how good this sweet cunt feels. My fist doesn't compare—” he blethered as he always did when lost in pleasure. “Nothing compares, my love—gods, and the sounds you make.”

Sihtric's lips nuzzled against your ear, hand coming up to nudge your chin towards him, mismatched orbs fixating on every little twist in your expression. Leaning on his forearm, Sihtric pushed his hand between your legs, your frame jolting when his thumb brushed against your clit.

The pressure made you clench around his cock, and Sihtric drew in a sharp breath. “Taking me so well—such a good girl for me.”

The pleasure was building rapidly, a coil tightening in the pit of your belly as the stimulation to your bundle of nerves made you writhe and moan in rapture. Mewling his name, you reached up to quieten yourself by kissing him, clasping your palm over his and moving it to your belly so that he could feel his cock protruding from beneath the skin.

Cursing, Sihtric suddenly broke pace, swiftly twisting your legs over each broad shoulder, left hand snaking under your head while the other returned to press down on the outline of his length as he pounded into you again.

Along with the increased pressure, the intensity of being literally folded in half sent you over the edge, a white-hot flash blurring your teary eyes as you came undone around his cock.

Sihtric was not far behind. The pure bliss painted across your face only spurring him on, rutting harder, deeper, until he finally finished in your womb. The constriction of your walls milked him of every drop, heavy pants resounding in the space between you as you came down from your highs.

Easing your legs down from his shoulders, he pulled you with him to lie entangled at his side, his length gliding out of your slippery cave. He let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes, contentment decreasing his features.

You felt his thigh muscle flex against your cunt, and you could not help but chuckle breathlessly. “You smear the mess, Sihtric.”

You saw him too and your eyes skimmed over him, quick as a knife-check, before you started walking, not toward him but past him, as if he were simply another post in the street.

It was your way, it was your silent agreement, a pattern you both followed without ever naming it and without questioning it. 

Sihtric pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you.

“You drank,” he said.

“So did you.”

“A little.”

“A little,” you echoed with a brief smile.

You walked for a while in the thin rain without speaking. 

It was not the heavy silence of two people who want to speak but are afraid to do it or don’t know how to start. Silence with Sihtric was always easy, the quiet with him never felt empty. It lived comfortably between the two of you and filled the space of unnecessary words with understanding. 

You had learned to trust each other in harder places than an alehouse brawl and had saved each other’s lives more times than either of you cared to count. There was no other man you would trust your back like you trusted Sihtric. 

From the first days you stepped into Uhtred’s service Sihtric and Finan – the two Uhtred’s shadows, as you silently had dubbed them, had simply… taken you in, with that quiet, practical kind of welcome that mattered more than any words.

Finan was a master in sliding in between you and anything that threatened to sour your mood. If some fool tested your patience, Finan would appear like a fox in a henhouse, all bright eyes and sharper tongue, spinning some ridiculous remark until you felt your mouth twitch despite yourself. The man could coax a smile out of a stone.

Sihtric was different and way more quiet.

The young Dane rarely could hold your gaze for longer than a heartbeat, and though he spoke little to anyone, with you it was almost as if all his words suddenly turned into skittish horses and ran away at the last moment, but what he lacked in talk, he made up for in deeds.

When the sun scorched and everyone else was busy with finding a shade, he would be the first one to wordlessly offer you a waterskin. At the fire, he’d always pass you a strip of dried meat before taking his own bite, and you simply knew your saddle strap was always checked and adjusted before you rode out. If you thanked him, he’d answer with nothing more than a slight shrug, as if that was simply part of the order of things.

Then the first battle came. 

You had seen enough warriors with loud mouths and soft skills, but there was nothing soft about Sihtric when blades were drawn. You had never seen a more deadly weapon than the war axe in Sihtric’s hand and that was more worth that thousand words.  

He was simply always there, always where you needed him, often before you had even realised you did. He slipped between you and danger like your own shadow. And if in the beginning you wanted to protest that, you quickly learned to trust him and to move like you were born to his rhythm because together, you were simply unbeatable.

Your lodging wasn’t far, Uhtred liked to keep his people close when he could, and there had been enough times when that had saved you all. In the beginning you had wondered about the loyalty in the men that followed him, now you knew. You were not simply soldiers to a lord. You were family, a pack, if you listened to Finan.

Sihtric tried not to look at your mouth or at the line of your throat, that small slice of skin peaking above the fur coat. 

He did, anyway.

You paused at the door and looked at him for a short questioning moment. 

“Do you want to…” Sihtric began, but didn’t finish. 

You just nodded and pushed the door open. 

The room was small and clean with a bed, a chest, a chair, and your shield leaning by the wall.

You barred the door out of habit, and Sihtric shrugged off his cloak. 

You unbraided your hair with quick fingers and tried not to look at him while you did it. Sihtric took off his boots and unfastened his leather armour, laying it neatly on the chest as he freed himself of it and your eyes were instantly drawn to his bare chest and stomach, to the taut planes of his abdomen, muscle shifting beneath skin with every move. 

You came to him and tugged his belt free, almost impatient. You didn’t want to look greedy, but you hadn’t had a good hump in weeks.

That’s what it was between you. 

“It’s just a hump, no strings,” you had told him the first time as he had surprised you waist-deep in the river, scrubbing blood and mud from your skin. 

You’d dragged him onto the mossy bank, shoved him down onto his own fur cloak spread across the grass, and climbed astride him. You rode him hard, hips slamming down, taking every inch with raw, greedy need, fingers ravenously dipping into his bare skin.

He had watched you through heavy-lidded eyes, with lips parted and breath ragged, as he had let you use him, let you take your pleasure and shake off the death and filth of the battlefield. 

He had known what you needed like he always did and he simply gave it to you, hips thrusting up to meet every desperate roll of your hips, until your cries of pleasure echoed off the water and your body shattered around him. 

And then he had fucked you, he had flipped you over beneath him and fucked you with deep, rough strokes, your leg pushed up his hip, stealing the air from your lungs with every thrust and turning your second climax into a wave of white, burning pleasure. 

That’s how it started, that’s how it was going on. That’s what you expected from him tonight. 

Sithric caught your wrists and held them for a moment, your eyes jumped up, hunger flaring.

You undressed without ceremony and shoved Sihtric backward toward the bed. He followed willingly. There was no real tenderness, nothing that might count as softness. You didn’t want it. You just wanted to fuck, and Sihtric knew it. You had repeated it often enough, so he had stopped to question it. 

Still, when you climbed onto the bed and pulled him down with you, there was a hush inside him, a quiet something that felt like a betrayal of the rules you’d set. 

”Want to ride me?” Sihtric asked, while his hands slid over your thighs.

“How do you always know what I want? “ You asked back and Sihtric reached for you instantly. His large hands steadied your waist as you swung a leg over and straddled him. 

Sihtric’s hands slid up your ribs, brushing the undersides of your breasts, before he cupped them, and when he let his thumbs stroke over your hardened peaks, your back arched before you could stop it. 

He watched the reaction like he’d expected it.

“I know you,” he said and rolled his hips against you. He was already fully hard, the head of his cock nudged against your pearl as he moved and you gasped. 

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” you smiled down at him, dragging your folds along his length. “You’re really good at it, you know. Your wife will be a happy lady one day.”

You closed your eyes, took his cock in your fist and sank down in one slow motion until your ass met his thighs and he was buried to the hilt. The stretch burned so perfectly you tipped your head back on a broken moan and you didn’t see the way Sihtric’s eyes darkened at your words for one small almost unnoticeable moment. 

In the morning, you woke up first. You always wake up first.

You dressed quietly, buckled on your gear, braided your hair and slipped out of the room. Sihtric opened his eyes the moment the door fell shut behind you. 

It was another one of your small rituals. He pretended to be asleep, while you dressed yourself and left. It was easier. The morning silence between you after a night spent together was the only silence that felt odd. You both hated it and you both were good at avoiding it.

A week or so had passed and you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that Sihtric was avoiding you. No, not completely. You still trained together, you still ran into each other a dozen times before midday and yet something had changed. 

He didn’t wait for you at the alehouse in the evenings, didn’t linger longer after a sword practice. Where he used to match your pace as you walked back, used to offer a few quiet words or a glance, now he was suddenly busy – adjusting his armour straps, checking his blade, listening to Osferth.

You told yourself you were imagining it, that it was nothing. 

And yet you were there, standing outside his door with your hand raised and ready to knock.

What would you say to him? Why had you come? 

You lowered your hand, then lifted it again with your fingers curled, but still undecided. 

Finally you knocked and waited in silence. There was a soft sound of feet shuffling against the floor and then the door opened, no not fully, just a narrow slit and Sihtric’s face appeared in the gap. 

“Hey, it’s me,” you whispered.

“Has something happened?” Sihtric asked through the opening.

“No, no…” you shook your head. “I was … I was just wondering… do you want to…”

“It’s not a good time,” Sihtric interrupted you. “I’m… I’m kinda busy.”

“You mean…” you began, brows drawing together, but he cut in before you could finish the thought.

“Why don’t you go to the alehouse,” he said quickly. “Finan and Osferth are already there. I will join you in a moment.”

For one short moment you managed a look over Sihtric’s shoulder and that’s when you saw her. She was sitting on the bed, long dark hair falling over her shoulders in smooth waves. Candlelight made her skin shine like honey. She wore a simple dress, but it clung in all the right places with a neckline that took courage of a different kind. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, fingers unmarked, soft, as though they had never closed around a shield rim hard enough to raise blisters, never dragged a blade free of a man’s ribs.

She was everything you were not.

Soft. Delicate.

Your gaze dropped to your own hands. Rough knuckles with small cuts half-healed, linen breeches stained with damp mud, clinging at the hems above your boots. 

Sihtric followed your gaze too late. His eyes flicked back toward the room, then to you, and in that flash you saw it: panic, regret, something like shame, swallowed down too quickly to name and then the door shut. 

“What are you doing?” Sihtric’s voice caught you in the stables as you were pulling tighter the last straps of your saddle.

“It’s not your concern,” you said without looking at him and patted your mare’s neck.

“Good girl,” you murmured to her and her ears flicked back, catching your tone even if she didn’t understand the words.

“Of course it’s not,” there was a strange tinge to Sihtric’s voice that you deliberately decided to ignore.

“I’m nothing to you,” he went on, and the words came out like he’d been turning them over for days. “Just a good hump. That’s it.”

For a short moment you just stood there, holding on to the reins. Your mare snorted softly. It stung more than you expected. It was as if Sihtric’s words had landed in some dark place you’d been trying not to look at and now you were forced to. You slowly turned toward him. 

“That’s… that’s not true…” you said. “You know it’s not true.”

“No,” Sihtric’s eyes went darker as he stepped closer. “I don’t.”

“You… you should have known…” you whispered, taking a step back.

“How?” He demanded. “You have never told me anything else. I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of being used and then cast aside as if nothing ever happened between us.”

Something hot rose in you, swift and defensive. Anger was easier than admitting how much it hurt to hear him say it.

“So you just decided to find someone else to play with,” you challenged, looking straight into his mismatched eyes. 

“Don’t pretend to be the wounded one,” you snapped, and only then realised your voice had risen. “It’s me who found you with another when I came to speak to you.” 

“And why would that bother you? What did you come to say, hmm? That you finally realized I'm more than just a warm body in the night? Or were you going to push me away again, like always?"

“I… I …,” you stammered, searching for words you could throw back at him, something that would hurt as much as it hurt you but you couldn’t, the same as you couldn’t find an answer to the very simple questions bouncing around in your mind. 

Why? Why did it hurt so much?

Sihtric’s hand came up. He hesitated for a moment and then reached out, cupping your cheek, and his thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. The touch was gentle, but it burned, stirring even more the chaos inside you.

“What did you want to tell me?” Sihtric’s voice opposed to yours had gone very quiet.

“I… I don’t know…” you murmured. 

His hand fell away, dropping limply to his side. 

“That’s what I thought…” he whispered and turned around, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he began to walk away, boots scuffing softly against the hay-strewn floor.

Halfway to the door, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “It was the miller’s wife, by the way,” he added, his voice flat but not unkind. “She’s teaching me to read.”

“What? Sihtric, wait!" your feet were already moving as if on their own. You caught his arm just as he reached the threshold. With a firm tug, you spun him around

"I came to tell you that I need you," you cried out. "Not just in the dark, not just for stolen moments. I came to tell you..."

The sentence died unfinished as Sihtric's hands framed your face and his mouth silenced you. 

“Say it, what did you come to tell me,” Sihtric breathed against your neck as moments later you found yourself in the keep of straw with legs wrapped around Sihtric’s waist while he pounded into you.

Sihtric had shifted closer, just enough that his knee pressed lightly against yours in a careful and asking touch. “We’ll go slow,” he had said. “We’ll ask. You can stop us whenever you want.”

It wasn’t often your little village played host to men like them. Spring had come soaked with rain, and the river had swollen with its normally drowsy and slow current so fierce now that it had swallowed every crossing beneath its brown, cold churn. 

There was simply no getting over it for now, meaning a week’s delay at least, maybe more, but turning back to look for  another route would cost even longer, especially as the travellers had brought word that the bridge by Lindisfarne had been also washed away, leaving Lord Uhtred and his men stranded in the middle of nowhere, or, more precisely, in your God-forsaken village.

“I… I don’t know,” you had murmured, looking from one man to another as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth. “I have never done anything like that. ” 

And God forgive, they were both beautiful, broad-shouldered, tall, muscle shifting beneath the straps and plates of their leather armour whenever they moved.

Life had long taught you to take what it offered and make the best out of it, and right now it was offering you two handsome warriors that had been showering you with attention for days and you didn’t give a damn about the sulky looks your betrothed, the miller's son, were casting your way, as you sat giggling between the two gorgeous warriors. 

He was your fathers choice, not yours, besides, you’d seen what he was made of.

Only yesterday you’d caught him rutting the blacksmith’s daughter in the little barn behind the stables, and still your father hadn’t even bothered to call the betrothal off. 

So it was no coincidence that you were wearing your best dress tonight, the deep green one you usually saved for market days and rare feasts, the one with the brave neckline and the corset that lifted your breasts. 

You had dreamt often enough about someone like them, a prince on a white horse, strong and beautiful, that would fall in love with you from the first sight, sweep you up and ride you far away from this place. 

You knew it was a foolish dream, there were no princes on white horses in this world, and you had no doubt what this was: a game, a stolen night, a dream. 

As much as you ached to leave this small village and your unworthy moron of a future husband behind and see at least a glimpse of the big wide world, you also knew the truth – these warriors were going to move on, and in the next village fresh lashes will flutter and sweeter smiles will greet them, and they will forget your name before the moon turned. 

And yet you were here, in the small room above the alehouse, pressed between their bodies with Finan’s fingers twisting your hardened nipples and Sihtric’s broad chest and steel hard abs running all along your spine and, God forgive, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Look at these perfect lips, Sihtric,” Finan drawled, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted on their own without a single word from him, closing around his thumb.

They had taken their time to free you from your dress, slow and teasing, kisses trailing your skin, rough but gentle fingers running along the lines of your body as if unwrapping a precious gift, chipping away every last remnant of doubt. 

By the time they were done undressing you, your whole body felt on fire, legs shaky and eyes heavy and half lid, nothing but heat and pure want cursing through your veins.

Sihtric’s large palms on your hips pulled your arse firmly against his hard cock, while Finan’s free hand fondled your breast, thumb brushing and circling your hardened nub. 

You felt Sihtric’s calloused fingers slide over your belly in an unhurried trail and dip down into your pulsing core, the first teasing brush against your perl, sending sparks all over your body.

You moaned around Finan’s thumb, the sound muffled and needy, and rolled your hips back against Sihtric’s crotch. 

Finan made an appreciative sound, eyebrows lifting in warm delight. He leaned in, ran his tongue over your nipple and pulled it in his mouth, sucking hard on it. 

“Oh God,” you mewled from the rush of heat rolling over you.

“That’s our girl, our sweet beautiful girl,” Finan murmured, pulling his thumb free with a wet pop and trailing the glistening digit down the centre of your throat, pressing lightly just over your racing pulse. 

Sihtric’s gaze slid down to your plush, parted and slightly trembling lips. 

“You want more than his finger in that pretty mouth, don’t you?” Sihtric asked, his fingers slipped deeper, two of them finally, notching at your entrance and sliding inside you. You cried out, walls fluttering hard around the sudden intrusion.

Your head snapped back against Sihtric’s shoulder, pathetic little wines rolling over your lips as your hips danced, chasing the delicious friction. Every breath came shallow, every nerve singing where their hands and bodies touched you.

“Do you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, while Finan takes care of your cunt?” Sihtric’s other hand slid down to palm the full curve of your ass, kneading, spreading you slightly against his cock. “Is that what you want?”

 “Say it,” Finan murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell him what you want, love. He’s been staring at that mouth for days like a starving man.”

You just nodded, fast and frantic. The image alone, Sihtric’s words conjured in your head was enough to almost push you over the edge. Your thoughts were slowly dissolving in the heat of their bodies, you could feel both their heartbeats, one fast and eager against your chest, the other heavy and controlled at your back and the last coherent thought you had was that if there was heaven on earth this was how it was supposed to feel. 

A moment later you found yourself in bed on your hands and knees with Sihtric before you, cock flushed dark and weeping at the tip. He wrapped one hand around the base and angled himself toward your mouth.

You felt Finan behind you, hands roaming, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, then sliding to your ass. 

“Spread your legs for me, sweet thing,” he commanded and you did, shakily widening your stance until you felt the thick head of him slide along your slick folds, coating himself in you, teasing the swollen entrance until your hips jerked backward on instinct.

“Ready for me?” he asked.

“Yes…” you breathed. “ Yes… please….”

“Christ almighty, you’re so perfect,” Finan rumbled, as he notched himself at your opening and began to push inside, slow, inexorable, stretching you open inch by thick inch. You cried out, the sound raw and broken.

“God,” Finan hissed against your neck, hips rolling in a shallow thrust that seated him deeper. “So tight. So wet. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Another thrust and he filled you completely, hips flush to your ass, every ridge and vein of him pressed inside where you’d ached for it.

Sihtric watched every second of it.

He reached down, fingers threading into your hair as he guided your mouth closer to him.

“Open,” he said quietly the same moment as Finan pulled out and thrust hard back into you. Your lips parted on a moan and he slid in.

They found a rhythm almost immediately.

Finan’s thrusts were long, deliberate, dragging almost all the way out before sinking back in with a loud slap against your arse that echoed in the room. Each forward roll of his hips pushed you further onto Sihtric’s cock, forcing you to take him deeper, to swallow around him until tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your moans became choked, desperate little sounds.

You felt their hands everywhere – Finan’s on your hips, pulling you back and forth along the length of his cock; Sihtric’s in your hair, holding your head steady as he rocked deeper into your mouth.

“Look at her,” Finan panted, voice wrecked. “Taking us both so well.”

You were already completely lost in it, in the rhythm, in the pleasure, in the way they both claimed, owned and devoured you. 

The pleasure built so fast you had not the slightest chance to prolong it, your body bowed between them, thighs shaking, every nerve singing at the relentless drag of Finan’s cock inside you, pushing you higher and higher.

Sihtric’s control was also fraying, you could feel it in the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his breathing turned ragged, the way his hips began to move with less restraint, fucking your mouth faster and harder. 

“Let it go, love, we got you,” Finan’s deep rumbling voice was the last thing you heard before you  shattered.

The climax ripped through you like summer lightning, white-hot and blinding. You screamed around the cock in your mouth, the sound muffled and desperate, body locking and walls clamping down around Finan. Your knees buckled and only their hands and bodies kept you upright.

Sihtric’s rhythm faltered next, his hips stuttered and with a strangled groan he spilled down your throat in hot pulsing waves.

Finan followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a broken moan, you felt him flooding your insides pulse after shuddering pulse.

They held you there between them as you trembled through the aftershocks, Finan’s arms around your waist, Sihtric’s hand in your hair, thumb stroking your cheek, and when they finally eased out you collapsed forward into Sihtric’s waiting arms. 

“Still breathing?” Finan teased, voice wrecked.

You laughed weakly and hoarse. “Think so.”

“Good girl,” he murmured and the praise hit you like a hot wave. “Because this was just the start, sweetheart.”

“I thought you said it was a one-time thing?” you choked out between panting breaths.

“Oh no, love.” Finan drawled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blades. “You’re far too perfect for us to let you go. You’re ours now.”

“If you want it,” Sihtric added quickly, tipping your chin up and brushing a soft, careful kiss over your swollen lips, and his eyes were almost pleading. “Only if you want it.”

There are princes on white horses, you thought, half-dazed, as hours later, you laid sore but boneless and satisfied between them. And somehow, you’d ended up with two.

Sihtric had shifted closer, just enough that his knee pressed lightly against yours in a careful and asking touch. “We’ll go slow,” he had said. “We’ll ask. You can stop us whenever you want.”

It wasn’t often your little village played host to men like them. Spring had come soaked with rain, and the river had swollen with its normally drowsy and slow current so fierce now that it had swallowed every crossing beneath its brown, cold churn. 

There was simply no getting over it for now, meaning a week’s delay at least, maybe more, but turning back to look for  another route would cost even longer, especially as the travellers had brought word that the bridge by Lindisfarne had been also washed away, leaving Lord Uhtred and his men stranded in the middle of nowhere, or, more precisely, in your God-forsaken village.

“I… I don’t know,” you had murmured, looking from one man to another as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth. “I have never done anything like that. ” 

And God forgive, they were both beautiful, broad-shouldered, tall, muscle shifting beneath the straps and plates of their leather armour whenever they moved.

Life had long taught you to take what it offered and make the best out of it, and right now it was offering you two handsome warriors that had been showering you with attention for days and you didn’t give a damn about the sulky looks your betrothed, the miller's son, were casting your way, as you sat giggling between the two gorgeous warriors. 

He was your fathers choice, not yours, besides, you’d seen what he was made of.

Only yesterday you’d caught him rutting the blacksmith’s daughter in the little barn behind the stables, and still your father hadn’t even bothered to call the betrothal off. 

So it was no coincidence that you were wearing your best dress tonight, the deep green one you usually saved for market days and rare feasts, the one with the brave neckline and the corset that lifted your breasts. 

You had dreamt often enough about someone like them, a prince on a white horse, strong and beautiful, that would fall in love with you from the first sight, sweep you up and ride you far away from this place. 

You knew it was a foolish dream, there were no princes on white horses in this world, and you had no doubt what this was: a game, a stolen night, a dream. 

As much as you ached to leave this small village and your unworthy moron of a future husband behind and see at least a glimpse of the big wide world, you also knew the truth – these warriors were going to move on, and in the next village fresh lashes will flutter and sweeter smiles will greet them, and they will forget your name before the moon turned. 

And yet you were here, in the small room above the alehouse, pressed between their bodies with Finan’s fingers twisting your hardened nipples and Sihtric’s broad chest and steel hard abs running all along your spine and, God forgive, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Look at these perfect lips, Sihtric,” Finan drawled, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted on their own without a single word from him, closing around his thumb.

They had taken their time to free you from your dress, slow and teasing, kisses trailing your skin, rough but gentle fingers running along the lines of your body as if unwrapping a precious gift, chipping away every last remnant of doubt. 

By the time they were done undressing you, your whole body felt on fire, legs shaky and eyes heavy and half lid, nothing but heat and pure want cursing through your veins.

Sihtric’s large palms on your hips pulled your arse firmly against his hard cock, while Finan’s free hand fondled your breast, thumb brushing and circling your hardened nub. 

You felt Sihtric’s calloused fingers slide over your belly in an unhurried trail and dip down into your pulsing core, the first teasing brush against your perl, sending sparks all over your body.

You moaned around Finan’s thumb, the sound muffled and needy, and rolled your hips back against Sihtric’s crotch. 

Finan made an appreciative sound, eyebrows lifting in warm delight. He leaned in, ran his tongue over your nipple and pulled it in his mouth, sucking hard on it. 

“Oh God,” you mewled from the rush of heat rolling over you.

“That’s our girl, our sweet beautiful girl,” Finan murmured, pulling his thumb free with a wet pop and trailing the glistening digit down the centre of your throat, pressing lightly just over your racing pulse. 

Sihtric’s gaze slid down to your plush, parted and slightly trembling lips. 

“You want more than his finger in that pretty mouth, don’t you?” Sihtric asked, his fingers slipped deeper, two of them finally, notching at your entrance and sliding inside you. You cried out, walls fluttering hard around the sudden intrusion.

Your head snapped back against Sihtric’s shoulder, pathetic little wines rolling over your lips as your hips danced, chasing the delicious friction. Every breath came shallow, every nerve singing where their hands and bodies touched you.

“Do you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, while Finan takes care of your cunt?” Sihtric’s other hand slid down to palm the full curve of your ass, kneading, spreading you slightly against his cock. “Is that what you want?”

 “Say it,” Finan murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell him what you want, love. He’s been staring at that mouth for days like a starving man.”

You just nodded, fast and frantic. The image alone, Sihtric’s words conjured in your head was enough to almost push you over the edge. Your thoughts were slowly dissolving in the heat of their bodies, you could feel both their heartbeats, one fast and eager against your chest, the other heavy and controlled at your back and the last coherent thought you had was that if there was heaven on earth this was how it was supposed to feel. 

A moment later you found yourself in bed on your hands and knees with Sihtric before you, cock flushed dark and weeping at the tip. He wrapped one hand around the base and angled himself toward your mouth.

You felt Finan behind you, hands roaming, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, then sliding to your ass. 

“Spread your legs for me, sweet thing,” he commanded and you did, shakily widening your stance until you felt the thick head of him slide along your slick folds, coating himself in you, teasing the swollen entrance until your hips jerked backward on instinct.

“Ready for me?” he asked.

“Yes…” you breathed. “ Yes… please….”

“Christ almighty, you’re so perfect,” Finan rumbled, as he notched himself at your opening and began to push inside, slow, inexorable, stretching you open inch by thick inch. You cried out, the sound raw and broken.

“God,” Finan hissed against your neck, hips rolling in a shallow thrust that seated him deeper. “So tight. So wet. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Another thrust and he filled you completely, hips flush to your ass, every ridge and vein of him pressed inside where you’d ached for it.

Sihtric watched every second of it.

He reached down, fingers threading into your hair as he guided your mouth closer to him.

“Open,” he said quietly the same moment as Finan pulled out and thrust hard back into you. Your lips parted on a moan and he slid in.

They found a rhythm almost immediately.

Finan’s thrusts were long, deliberate, dragging almost all the way out before sinking back in with a loud slap against your arse that echoed in the room. Each forward roll of his hips pushed you further onto Sihtric’s cock, forcing you to take him deeper, to swallow around him until tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your moans became choked, desperate little sounds.

You felt their hands everywhere – Finan’s on your hips, pulling you back and forth along the length of his cock; Sihtric’s in your hair, holding your head steady as he rocked deeper into your mouth.

“Look at her,” Finan panted, voice wrecked. “Taking us both so well.”

You were already completely lost in it, in the rhythm, in the pleasure, in the way they both claimed, owned and devoured you. 

The pleasure built so fast you had not the slightest chance to prolong it, your body bowed between them, thighs shaking, every nerve singing at the relentless drag of Finan’s cock inside you, pushing you higher and higher.

Sihtric’s control was also fraying, you could feel it in the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his breathing turned ragged, the way his hips began to move with less restraint, fucking your mouth faster and harder. 

“Let it go, love, we got you,” Finan’s deep rumbling voice was the last thing you heard before you  shattered.

The climax ripped through you like summer lightning, white-hot and blinding. You screamed around the cock in your mouth, the sound muffled and desperate, body locking and walls clamping down around Finan. Your knees buckled and only their hands and bodies kept you upright.

Sihtric’s rhythm faltered next, his hips stuttered and with a strangled groan he spilled down your throat in hot pulsing waves.

Finan followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a broken moan, you felt him flooding your insides pulse after shuddering pulse.

They held you there between them as you trembled through the aftershocks, Finan’s arms around your waist, Sihtric’s hand in your hair, thumb stroking your cheek, and when they finally eased out you collapsed forward into Sihtric’s waiting arms. 

“Still breathing?” Finan teased, voice wrecked.

You laughed weakly and hoarse. “Think so.”

“Good girl,” he murmured and the praise hit you like a hot wave. “Because this was just the start, sweetheart.”

“I thought you said it was a one-time thing?” you choked out between panting breaths.

“Oh no, love.” Finan drawled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blades. “You’re far too perfect for us to let you go. You’re ours now.”

“If you want it,” Sihtric added quickly, tipping your chin up and brushing a soft, careful kiss over your swollen lips, and his eyes were almost pleading. “Only if you want it.”

There are princes on white horses, you thought, half-dazed, as hours later, you laid sore but boneless and satisfied between them. And somehow, you’d ended up with two.

Sihtric had shifted closer, just enough that his knee pressed lightly against yours in a careful and asking touch. “We’ll go slow,” he had said. “We’ll ask. You can stop us whenever you want.”

It wasn’t often your little village played host to men like them. Spring had come soaked with rain, and the river had swollen with its normally drowsy and slow current so fierce now that it had swallowed every crossing beneath its brown, cold churn. 

There was simply no getting over it for now, meaning a week’s delay at least, maybe more, but turning back to look for  another route would cost even longer, especially as the travellers had brought word that the bridge by Lindisfarne had been also washed away, leaving Lord Uhtred and his men stranded in the middle of nowhere, or, more precisely, in your God-forsaken village.

“I… I don’t know,” you had murmured, looking from one man to another as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth. “I have never done anything like that. ” 

And God forgive, they were both beautiful, broad-shouldered, tall, muscle shifting beneath the straps and plates of their leather armour whenever they moved.

Life had long taught you to take what it offered and make the best out of it, and right now it was offering you two handsome warriors that had been showering you with attention for days and you didn’t give a damn about the sulky looks your betrothed, the miller's son, were casting your way, as you sat giggling between the two gorgeous warriors. 

He was your fathers choice, not yours, besides, you’d seen what he was made of.

Only yesterday you’d caught him rutting the blacksmith’s daughter in the little barn behind the stables, and still your father hadn’t even bothered to call the betrothal off. 

So it was no coincidence that you were wearing your best dress tonight, the deep green one you usually saved for market days and rare feasts, the one with the brave neckline and the corset that lifted your breasts. 

You had dreamt often enough about someone like them, a prince on a white horse, strong and beautiful, that would fall in love with you from the first sight, sweep you up and ride you far away from this place. 

You knew it was a foolish dream, there were no princes on white horses in this world, and you had no doubt what this was: a game, a stolen night, a dream. 

As much as you ached to leave this small village and your unworthy moron of a future husband behind and see at least a glimpse of the big wide world, you also knew the truth – these warriors were going to move on, and in the next village fresh lashes will flutter and sweeter smiles will greet them, and they will forget your name before the moon turned. 

And yet you were here, in the small room above the alehouse, pressed between their bodies with Finan’s fingers twisting your hardened nipples and Sihtric’s broad chest and steel hard abs running all along your spine and, God forgive, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Look at these perfect lips, Sihtric,” Finan drawled, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted on their own without a single word from him, closing around his thumb.

They had taken their time to free you from your dress, slow and teasing, kisses trailing your skin, rough but gentle fingers running along the lines of your body as if unwrapping a precious gift, chipping away every last remnant of doubt. 

By the time they were done undressing you, your whole body felt on fire, legs shaky and eyes heavy and half lid, nothing but heat and pure want cursing through your veins.

Sihtric’s large palms on your hips pulled your arse firmly against his hard cock, while Finan’s free hand fondled your breast, thumb brushing and circling your hardened nub. 

You felt Sihtric’s calloused fingers slide over your belly in an unhurried trail and dip down into your pulsing core, the first teasing brush against your perl, sending sparks all over your body.

You moaned around Finan’s thumb, the sound muffled and needy, and rolled your hips back against Sihtric’s crotch. 

Finan made an appreciative sound, eyebrows lifting in warm delight. He leaned in, ran his tongue over your nipple and pulled it in his mouth, sucking hard on it. 

“Oh God,” you mewled from the rush of heat rolling over you.

“That’s our girl, our sweet beautiful girl,” Finan murmured, pulling his thumb free with a wet pop and trailing the glistening digit down the centre of your throat, pressing lightly just over your racing pulse. 

Sihtric’s gaze slid down to your plush, parted and slightly trembling lips. 

“You want more than his finger in that pretty mouth, don’t you?” Sihtric asked, his fingers slipped deeper, two of them finally, notching at your entrance and sliding inside you. You cried out, walls fluttering hard around the sudden intrusion.

Your head snapped back against Sihtric’s shoulder, pathetic little wines rolling over your lips as your hips danced, chasing the delicious friction. Every breath came shallow, every nerve singing where their hands and bodies touched you.

“Do you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, while Finan takes care of your cunt?” Sihtric’s other hand slid down to palm the full curve of your ass, kneading, spreading you slightly against his cock. “Is that what you want?”

 “Say it,” Finan murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell him what you want, love. He’s been staring at that mouth for days like a starving man.”

You just nodded, fast and frantic. The image alone, Sihtric’s words conjured in your head was enough to almost push you over the edge. Your thoughts were slowly dissolving in the heat of their bodies, you could feel both their heartbeats, one fast and eager against your chest, the other heavy and controlled at your back and the last coherent thought you had was that if there was heaven on earth this was how it was supposed to feel. 

A moment later you found yourself in bed on your hands and knees with Sihtric before you, cock flushed dark and weeping at the tip. He wrapped one hand around the base and angled himself toward your mouth.

You felt Finan behind you, hands roaming, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, then sliding to your ass. 

“Spread your legs for me, sweet thing,” he commanded and you did, shakily widening your stance until you felt the thick head of him slide along your slick folds, coating himself in you, teasing the swollen entrance until your hips jerked backward on instinct.

“Ready for me?” he asked.

“Yes…” you breathed. “ Yes… please….”

“Christ almighty, you’re so perfect,” Finan rumbled, as he notched himself at your opening and began to push inside, slow, inexorable, stretching you open inch by thick inch. You cried out, the sound raw and broken.

“God,” Finan hissed against your neck, hips rolling in a shallow thrust that seated him deeper. “So tight. So wet. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Another thrust and he filled you completely, hips flush to your ass, every ridge and vein of him pressed inside where you’d ached for it.

Sihtric watched every second of it.

He reached down, fingers threading into your hair as he guided your mouth closer to him.

“Open,” he said quietly the same moment as Finan pulled out and thrust hard back into you. Your lips parted on a moan and he slid in.

They found a rhythm almost immediately.

Finan’s thrusts were long, deliberate, dragging almost all the way out before sinking back in with a loud slap against your arse that echoed in the room. Each forward roll of his hips pushed you further onto Sihtric’s cock, forcing you to take him deeper, to swallow around him until tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your moans became choked, desperate little sounds.

You felt their hands everywhere – Finan’s on your hips, pulling you back and forth along the length of his cock; Sihtric’s in your hair, holding your head steady as he rocked deeper into your mouth.

“Look at her,” Finan panted, voice wrecked. “Taking us both so well.”

You were already completely lost in it, in the rhythm, in the pleasure, in the way they both claimed, owned and devoured you. 

The pleasure built so fast you had not the slightest chance to prolong it, your body bowed between them, thighs shaking, every nerve singing at the relentless drag of Finan’s cock inside you, pushing you higher and higher.

Sihtric’s control was also fraying, you could feel it in the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his breathing turned ragged, the way his hips began to move with less restraint, fucking your mouth faster and harder. 

“Let it go, love, we got you,” Finan’s deep rumbling voice was the last thing you heard before you  shattered.

The climax ripped through you like summer lightning, white-hot and blinding. You screamed around the cock in your mouth, the sound muffled and desperate, body locking and walls clamping down around Finan. Your knees buckled and only their hands and bodies kept you upright.

Sihtric’s rhythm faltered next, his hips stuttered and with a strangled groan he spilled down your throat in hot pulsing waves.

Finan followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a broken moan, you felt him flooding your insides pulse after shuddering pulse.

They held you there between them as you trembled through the aftershocks, Finan’s arms around your waist, Sihtric’s hand in your hair, thumb stroking your cheek, and when they finally eased out you collapsed forward into Sihtric’s waiting arms. 

“Still breathing?” Finan teased, voice wrecked.

You laughed weakly and hoarse. “Think so.”

“Good girl,” he murmured and the praise hit you like a hot wave. “Because this was just the start, sweetheart.”

“I thought you said it was a one-time thing?” you choked out between panting breaths.

“Oh no, love.” Finan drawled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blades. “You’re far too perfect for us to let you go. You’re ours now.”

“If you want it,” Sihtric added quickly, tipping your chin up and brushing a soft, careful kiss over your swollen lips, and his eyes were almost pleading. “Only if you want it.”

There are princes on white horses, you thought, half-dazed, as hours later, you laid sore but boneless and satisfied between them. And somehow, you’d ended up with two.

It was unclear even to you exactly how you got there, but after last night, the tension between you and Sihtric had been uncanny. If you were to put your silver on something, it had been that stupid dispute—at least since then had you felt it in his persistent glare.

Frankly, you just wanted to forget it as it had left you feeling rather diminished when he had thwarted your chance to hump another man.

Sihtric was not your man. You knew you had no right to be jealous when he gave his attention to other women, but even with that bit of self-realization, you could not help the dispiriting feeling of not being his first choice.

Not wanting to be weird about it, you played games with Finan and Osferth, attempting to distract yourself, but it proved near impossible as you had a direct line of sight to where Sihtric was perched on a bench, a whore on his lap.

You had scolded yourself for you loathed that disparaging term. It was not above you to admit that that was essentially what you are, giving yourself to serve under Uhtred in the promise of silver. There was a difference in the fact that you might well lose your life at any given moment, but you knew a whore was no safer at the filthy hands of a stranger. She would be safe in Sihtric's hands, though, and to know this made you jealous and therefore bitter. She was not the problem; nor was he, probably. The culprit might very well have been the tactically layered unresolved feelings you harbored, though you were in no hurry to admit that, especially not when you believed Sihtric had chosen someone other than you.

“‘S yur turn, lassie,” the Irishman muttered, a careful shove to your arm with his elbow.

Your eyes immediately darted back to the table, and your hand followed in a matter of seconds, fumbling awkwardly to pick up the four dice, inelegantly pretending you had not lost focus.

You threw them into the bowl and groaned when the taunting eyes stared back up at you. “Have I mentioned I hate this game?” you grumbled, pushing the bowl to Osferth.

The monk's head dipped in a sheepish grin. “Once or twice, I think.”

You kept playing and drinking, though you suspected Finan had been in your cup while you had been distracted, for the bottom bared itself to you all too soon. Scoffing, you leaned back on your seat to find a barmaid, but your traitorous eyes inadvertently drew back to their prior fixation.

Sihtric was gone, and so was the woman.

Osferth listened for the grind of your teeth while he worried the taut muscle in your jaw might snap like a bowstring, and when his gaze flickered to Finan, the Irishman merely shook his head, brown eyes reflecting an earnest, deterring warning.

Clearing your throat, you abruptly pushed to your feet. “I'll need more ale.”

It was for the best, you told yourself. That, with having been friends with Sihtric for years and having been intimate more than once in recent times, it was better to preserve your friendship. You tried to convince yourself that it was better to hurt a little now, than sometime in the future, where you had caught feelings for him—at least, you refused to acknowledge that was what this was.

Not feelings. Just an age-old desire and a blow to your self-esteem. Nothing that had to ruin your night.

At the bar, you ordered a new jug of ale for the table and paid what was already owed. It was then that a not-too-bad-looking fellow approached you with a humble tip of his head and a gentlemanly introduction.

The man told you he was a sailor whose ship had just anchored in the harbor, and to distract your mind, you decided to entertain his allure for some time.

He spoke kindly and with a smooth charm to his deep drawl. His skin was tanned by sun, and though you did not think him to be a warrior, he did not lack the physique. He wore a vest that revealed his dirtied, muscular arms, and he carried himself with a pride that easily overshadowed the pitiful patrons begging any pair of tits for attention. His hair was blond and free, darkened strands pushed behind pierced ears and a smirk that might have made a younger version of yourself swoon. But last night you had needed more ale to shut out your inner turmoil, and so you kept the liquid flowing, hoping it might erase Sihtric from your mind.

You were not sure how long you talked to the sailor in the bar, but you certainly went from tipsy with repressed emotions to drunk as a skunk with little inhibition. You were all but ready to pounce the man if only to forget the idea of humping Sihtric while he was with another, when suddenly he was at your side, a possessive arm wrapped around your waist.

Bewilderment had you frozen in place, and for a moment, you could do nothing but blink up at Sihtric. His lips moved, but you could not hear the words that made the sailor rush off over the pounding of blood rushing to your ears.

Only when his arm released you did the noise in the inn return.

“What in Hel's name do you think you're doing?” you hissed, anger bubbling in your voice.

Sihtric did not appear fazed by your reaction and shrugged, taking a sip from your cup. “Looked like he was bothering you.”

Your eyes widened at the sheer audacity, feeling your cheeks flush crimson. “Bullshit,” you sneered, crossing your arms and taking a step back lest you would catch a whiff of the whore on him. “I was enjoying his company.”

The dubious quirk of his brow only further irritated you, and your hands clenched into fists at his impertinence—he knew exactly what he was doing, and still he had the temerity to cockblock you when he had just humped a whore?

“Oh, so you can shove your cock in whatever you want, but I can't have some fun of my own?” you challenged.

The cocksure grimace told you he was more amused than provoked by your little outburst. “I didn't hump her,” he scoffed. “Just had to take a piss. Told her not to wait.”

You regarded him through the blur in your eyes, trying to read him. The mixture of your earlier disappointment and your bottled-up emotions was no good concoction. “So what then? Are you jealous that another man took interest in me?”

The huff that escaped him did nothing to soothe your irritation.

Looking around to find that the rest of the gang had retired, Sihtric kissed his teeth and grabbed your wrist. “Come on.”

Looking back on it, it was most definitely your unresolved feelings that made you lash out.

Sihtric had led you to the staircase to take you to your lodgings, but the simmering anger and defiance made you twist out of his grasp. “Let go of me!” you hissed.

Sihtric sighed your name, stepping down a step to come closer to you. The staircase appeared narrower with his broad frame blocking the way up. “Please, you are drunk.”

“And cross with you! You have no right to decide who I point my attention to.”

Sihtric sighed, somewhat confused as to what was even unfolding. “Come on—there's no reason for you to look for another man to hump when you have me.”

Have me. His words echoed tauntingly in your mind, and you felt as if you were about to cry, even if you did not know why. “But I don't know that I do, cause one moment we're comfy-humping and the next it looks like you're cozying up to some whore.”

When he took another step, his hand reaching out, you instinctively flinched away, feeling betrayed although you could not say that you had been. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is this really about? Hm?”

The answer to such a simple question seemed perversely complicated. In truth, you were not entirely certain yourself—not when you had not allowed yourself to spend even a minute pondering the bond between you. Your subconscious did not let you dwell on it for too long. Shaking your head, you sighed as you felt a headache settle. “Nothing, just… leave me be, Sihtric.”

Averting his intense eyes, you moved to step past him, but he did not give way. You were a stone's throw from shoving him, but you knew his stubbornness rivalled your own, and your pent-up emotions bubbled to anger.

“Sihtric—move out of my way.”

“I know it is not about me stopping you from humping that bastard, so what is it?” he demanded.

It was that tinder which lit you up, your smothered feelings disguised as anger exploding in his face.

If you were to recall exactly what you had said then, it would be mere guesses, but you knew the range of your temper and doubted you had held back in extending it to him.

When morning came, and you found yourself curled up in a corner of the rented room, you were mortified to face him again. You were thankful when Uhtred roused you all, bearing news that demanded you return to the road with haste. You had hoped the ride would keep you distracted from the wedge you had driven between you for a while, but of course, your mind would not allow you such a reprieve.

As you sobered up, you became acutely aware of the rift you had caused. Of course, in your stupor, your anger had felt justified, whereas now—well, now you felt like an arse for churning your unprocessed emotions at Sihtric.

So you were good friends who had humped a couple of times—you had never given it much thought; what that made you, and yet when you saw him with another woman and thought he had chosen her over you, you felt as if he had ripped your heart out and stomped on it. It made no sense to you—how these could be your feelings when you were nothing exclusive.

You cursed at yourself for getting too drunk, cursed yourself for thinking humping another man was a better choice than to confront these feelings you harbored, and you cursed yourself for not knowing exactly where you had gone wrong.

The day dragged on with the journey east, and although you could not be certain - and did not dare look - you felt as if Sihtric's eyes bore into your side. Whether it was hurt, disgust, or hatred, a sigh slipped from your lips. It might simply have been your own worry clouding your judgement, but you could not help fearing that you had destroyed whatever was between you.

You found your dread substantiated when you finally caught him glowering your way, and you instantly felt your cheeks heat with a profound shame. Messing up and not knowing to what extent—that was truly something mortifying.

You reasoned you would have to apologize for your behavior, to fix whatever you had broken. You knew the others would have noticed the oddness in the air by now, and though you were thankful they had yet to address it, you realized it would only be a matter of time before someone got in your business.

When you made camp for the night, you waited until you heard the soft snoring of your friends before you snuck out of your tent only to find that Sihtric was nowhere near. Following the tracks you knew to be his, you called his name in a hushed voice, knowing he would hear you approach before you could see him.

“Come to have another go at me?”

The edge in his tone startled you, and though your instincts demanded to know what you had done to make him this cold, you quietly swallowed, standing there like a child scolded.

“I came to apologize,” you said, feeling the warmth of your shame spread in your cheeks. You were thankful that the only light in the night was that of the moon.

Sihtric watched you for a moment, then huffed and turned to walk further from camp—or you.

“I-I…” you stammered hesitantly, unsure footsteps trailing behind. “Look I—obviously I could have handled that… better,” you tried to explain. “I'm sorry, Sihtric. You did not deserve that.”

“Certainly thought I deserved it yesterday,” he muttered, more so to himself than to you, his eyes fixed forward as he restlessly marched through the brush.

The bitterness in his voice made you wince inaudibly.

What on Earth had you done?

“Sihtric, please,” you called as you hurried after him. “Just let me explain.”

But you could not. Not when you were both unaware of what exactly you had done and what it was that had actually set you off.

“I did not mean to take my anger out on you like that. I swear, I-I don't know what came over me,” you stumbled over your words just as you did catching up to his determined strides. “I'm ashamed to admit I cannot recall my actions completely, but if you would just hear me out—I did not mean to hurt you.”

He stopped short, head tilted a bit like your words were swirling in his head—like he was thinking not about your words, but what to do with them; if what you said opened up a jar of possibilities.

“You do not recall?” Sihtric repeated lowly, voice bordering on careful.

You stuttered, unsure whether his sudden attentiveness was preferable. “No-not entirely.”

From where you stood, you could see the muscle beneath his taut jaw flex.

An exhausted sigh. Then he shook his head and continued walking. “It does not matter.”

Your lips pursed around your objection, brows creasing in bewilderment as a mix of disappointment and impatience bubbled in your veins. “It appears to,” you remarked, edged with a stubbornness meant to provoke, which you could not contain.

Although he had just decided on keeping his hurt and anger bottled up, something inside Sihtric snapped, and his expression made your heart sink before his words were spoken. “I told you that I love you, and you laughed in my face.”

You paled.

It was as if the mere reminder brought back the hazy memories.

How you had drunkenly let your feelings mask as defensive anger; trying to disregard him with a “you're free to hump whoever you wish” to which he, in frustration, admitted that he had no desire for anyone else because he—

Shit.

He was right.

You had actually laughed at him, rolled your eyes when Sihtric had said those three words—you had foolishly thought he was mocking you.

“Don't you dare say that shit!”

Nostrils flaring, eyes wide with a glossy layer, jaw clenched tight. The words had felt like a punch to the gut because while you had refused to acknowledge your feelings for so long, Sihtric threw them in your face and in your intoxicated headspace, they sounded more like an accusation—as if he was saying them for you rather than to you.

And because those words forced you to acknowledge that was exactly what you had been feeling, they registered only as your own.

The daunting realization must have been evident in your expression, for while you found no words, Sihtric nodded, lips forming a firm line as he muttered: “yeah.”

It became clear to you that there was no anger or bitterness left, just plain and simple hurt in the wake of your cruel rejection.

A downcast grimace tore at Sihtric's features, but the moment he turned to leave once again, you latched onto his arm.

“N-no, Sihtric—please, don't go. I-I did not—I don't—” you blurted, tears streaming down your cheeks before you realized they had formed. “I love you!” The declaration came like a Hail Mary, with urgency as if no force could hold them back. “I did not understand it until now! Alright? When I saw you with that girl, I realized I was not yours, and I thought it was just the ale making me territorial, but it wasn't—I got angry and defensive for falling in love with you without even realizing it!”

Sihtric was understandably taken aback by your reaction, and truthfully, you were just as surprised by it as he was. It was not a sweet or tender admission—but it was honest, torn from a heart you had kept caged for far too long.

Sniffling, you willed yourself to take a deep breath and let go of his arm.

“I swear, I am sorry for hurting you, Sihtric. I was foolish and afraid. I…” you whispered, gulping down the cry that threatened to spill. “I have never loved someone as I love you, and I-I think I was afraid to admit my feelings—I was afraid I might lose you.”

You had jeopardized your friendship with Sihtric—the very thing you had been trying to protect. Even attempting to explain yourself filled you with shame. When he had confessed his feelings, you had laughed in his face, too consumed by your own misery to recognize the sincerity behind his words.

Your eyes dropped to the ground, shame burning in your cheeks and ears.

He had every right to hate you.

Your breath hitched when his warm hands took yours.

Sihtric had known it for a while now. He could never hate you.

From the moment he realized his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship, Sihtric had known he was doomed. You never spoke of love. You cared deeply for those around you; that much was obvious, but romance was something he had long since stopped hoping for, something he assumed you could never feel for him.

The words strained as they left his mouth, yet he held himself steady. “There is nothing you need to fear. Not with me.”

Something between a whine and a sigh of relief escaped you. Your eyes fluttered shut when his large palm cupped your wet cheek, and you leaned into the comforting warmth. “I know. I am sorry.”

The coarse pad of his thumb wiped at a tear, brushing your heated skin with a painful tenderness. “Say you love me,” he rasped.

Blinking up to find those bi-colored orbs longingly gazing down at you, you nearly melted under his touch. “I love you,” you repeated in a soft mewl, breath uneven as his lips ghosted yours.

Sihtric closed the distance and pressed his mouth against yours, kissing you hungrily with the fuel of his fiery emotions. Sighing against him, you felt the familiar ticklish sensation spread in your belly, and your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders.

As easy as inhaling, Sihtric swooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against a nearby tree. Licking at the seam of your mouth, you needily accepted his tongue. A muffled moan vibrated against his lips as your legs wrapped around his waist, sex positioned perfectly to rub against his hardening cock.

“I need you around me,” he croaked, one hand already working its way under the furs keeping you warm.

His warm lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, knowing exactly where to suckle to make you helplessly moan his name. The sound was one he knew well now, falling from your lips like a siren’s call—intoxicating, irresistible, and threaded with allure.

“Please,” you gasped, writhing desperately as you eagerly tried to free him from his confines.

Once freed, Sihtric did not hold back. He pushed into your welcoming cave with a rugged groan, savouring the feeling of your slick walls clamping around his girth. He lost himself in you with dangerous ease, the rest of the world drowning out while only you remained.

Your head fell back with a pitiful cry as he filled you to the brim, your walls stretching to accommodate his thickness. His lips pressed below the shell of your ear, kissing the skin tenderly while his hips retreated only to rut forward.

His movements were slow and steady, hips rolling against the spot he knew unraveled you. You muffled your wanton moans into his fur-clad shoulder, whimpering softly as the familiar coil tightened in your lower belly.

Sihtric grunted lowly, head spinning with the ravenous lust that always reared its head at the encouraging symphony that left your lips. Handling you against the trunk, he adjusted his grip to piston into you, pressing his forehead against yours, forcing your eyes to lock. Your swollen lips parted as if stuck around a breath, your dazed eyes glossy with desire, brows creased with the restraint of dampening your cries—you looked like the memory he recalled whenever he would touch himself, whenever he could not have you.

His lips captured yours once again, kissing you hungrily, messily, as his pace increased, swallowing down your moans like a starved man.

The bark gnawing through the layers of your clothes would leave a nasty bruise come morning, but right now, the chafing was the furthest thing from your mind. Not now that you knew he loved you, not while he looked at you like you were his world.

“Please, Sihtric—” you panted, barely able to speak your wish with his rigorous rhythm stealing the air from your lungs. “Spill inside me. Fi-fill me up—make me yours.”

Although his movements did not falter under your plea, he felt something curl inside him, something primal clawing at his chest at the mental impression of you, round with his pups. You gasped when his hand possessively closed around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your head spin, cloud with the heightened sensation of your creeping orgasm.

Your walls clenched around his cock as he brought you inches from his face, hips mercilessly rutting into you. “I will, I will, sweet girl. Gods, I love you.”

A pitched whimper tore from your throat, his words making you clench around his thick length, the sounds of your dripping cunt lewd, but you were too far gone to worry about being heard.

Sihtric felt it too, how your gummy lining tightened around him, and it sent him hurdling over the edge. Thick ropes of seed painted your insides, eagerly, frantically marking you as his while your cunt did its best to drain every last drop.

He held you there for a moment, against the tree trunk and the damp night, grip tight as if afraid of letting you go would mean the moment would evaporate.

Heavy breaths lingered in the air, and something between a whine and a groan escaped you as he slid out. Loving how sensitive you were, Sihtric chuckled lowly and kissed you. His hand smoothed between your legs, fingers scooping the cum trickling down your thighs up and lazily pushed it back inside, making you whimper his name.

“Sleep with me tonight,” he murmured, pecking soft kisses all over your face. “Wake with me in the morning and let me make you my wife.”

Your dazed eyes flickered across his shadowed features, looking for a sign your ears were playing tricks on you.

But you saw only earnest hope and patience as he awaited your answer with bated breath.

You grinned breathlessly and threw your arms around his frame, pulling him into a frenzied kiss.