In This Life (Ivar Lothbrok)

Chapter 1: Old Norse +18

The bed is incredibly soft to the touch, the furs covering you from the winter cold. There is nothing more delicious than the peaceful feeling that runs through your body. You cannot remember the yesterday, or worry about the tomorrow. The only thing that matters is the warmth of your lover's arms around you. Sweet kisses on your neck keep your attention on the now. He pampers you with love and understanding you have never dared to dream before.

"Min dronning," your husband whispers against your back. Something in the way he speaks sends a shiver down your spine. It is deep, powerful, dangerous, and you adore it. You adore him. How could you not? If he is the one who has given you all.

You turn around in his arms, your naked front right within his reach. He grasps your hips, bringing you closer. Your husband leans down, his mouth instantly finding your nipple. You cannot see his face, but his dark hair fans over your chest while his tongue licks your sensitive tip. It isn't the first time that he has done it, he loves worshiping your body in the most depraved yet delicious ways.

It's almost poetic, the way you instantly respond to him. Your back arches, and you let out a faint moan as his lips kiss from one breast to the other. His tongue instantly catches your other nipple, your lover circles your tip. Then his teeth make contact. He is tender, he doesn't bite, but instead the way he pulls only makes you moan harder.

Your husband doesn't just stop at that, though. While his mouth is busy with your upper body, his hand decides to take a trip south. First, it deliciously travels from your hip to your ass. He takes his time to caress the curve of your cheeks as if starved from contact. He squeezes once, twice, and then moves to your inner thigh.

You both know what is bound to happen, there is no reason to play, but oh your husband loves to tease you. He can't get enough of the way you squirm at his ministrations, of the way you beg and beg for him until he finally fucks you. Most of the time, he does it with his mouth or fingers, but there are moments you get lucky. And you feel the luckiest, because when he thrust his cock in you, all you can think about is him. The way he stretches you, the way he smells, the way he moves, the dirty words that only spur you on to be his naughty wife.

You love your husband, and that is the only explanation possible for the wetness in your pussy when he hasn't even touched you yet. "Min lille kone," your lover whispers against your skin when he finally notices how soaked you are. He will give to you all and more.

Expertly, his fingers find your lovely, delicate button, and the pressure is just the right amount to have your toes curling and your mind going fuzzy. You want to speak, you wish to cry out for with, but you cannot find in yourself the power to do so. It's like your voice can't do anything but moan for him.

Your husband's touch is torture, he caresses and caresses without entering. You like what he does to you, you love it, but you need more. You always need more, as the vicious creature you are. Umettelig, sometimes he whispers in your ear. Not only does it describe the way you crave him, but your thirst on the battlefield. More, you want to demand of him, but you can't. Your words are stuck, leaving you a whimpering mess under his control. Still, he knows you too well, because his skilled finger thrusts into you swiftly. He circles your mound with his thumb, and it just feels too good.

For a precious moment, the room fills with the sounds of fucking and lust. For a moment, you're back where you have always meant to be; in your husband's care. Then, he lifts his head from in between your breasts, and you see him. You notice his gorgeous blue eyes. And then you wake up.

The stiff morning air is cold and filled with the smells of cooking. Your foster family is probably preparing breakfast right now. It's early, but god, they love to wake up at the break of dawn. You will never understand it. If it weren't for your need to go to school, you would remain in bed until noon. You take a peek at the clock on your bedside, you still have 10 minutes before your alarm rings.