Ease The Dawn

Part 2, Chapter 2

"My hands are cold," Ivar whispered into the back of Aethelswith's neck. Sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her thinly covered breast. Sighing languidly, he closed his eyes, every part of his body craving her.

"And that is for warming them?" she whispered, her eyes still closed as she dozed, enjoying the warmth beneath the heavy furs. Her lover's broad chest was pressed tight to her back and the brightness of the days' first light was filtering through the wooden shutters.

"Odin would not have made them the size of my hand if they were not meant to rest there."

"Why do you think Odin made my breasts?" she smiled, not opening her eyes.

"Because he favours me."

"So, he made them for you?"

"No, he made you for me."

"Ah."

Smoothing his nose across the skin of her shoulder, he inhaled her scent, his mind felt at peace, utterly at ease and he knew, with every part of his being, that there would never be an end to his devotion to her. Nor his bottomless need to have her close, pressed together, as they were now, with the door locked and the world shuttered out, his lips sweeping across her ivory skin. Her soft mews, imprinted in his head.

Pushing her chest forward to stretch, her smile morphed into a yawn. Lifting his head from the pillow, he buried his face into the front of her throat, her pulse softly fluttering away under his tongue.

"Can I put my cock in you?"

"Ivar!" she laughed.

"Yes?" unable to hold his smile, he grated his teeth across her neck.

"Do not say such things."

"Why?"

"It is indecent."

"We can do indecent things, but we cannot speak of them?"

"Yes." She could feel the smirk on his face.

"Why?" he feigned confusion, greedy to hear her laugh again.

"I have no answer to that."

"You Christians are so fickle." Tilting his head, his lips gently pulled the skin of her ear. "So, I should just be Viking and not ask?"

Saying nothing, she pushed her bottom back into his bulging groin, instantly making him grind forward, his breath picking up against her ear.

"I see," he uttered, pushing his manhood against her. "Turn your head woman, I want to taste you."

Turning her upper body toward him, he pressed his mouth to hers. Unhurried, his upper lip traced across her pink lips, parting her mouth with his own, forcing him moan. The sound reminded Aethelswith of the purr of the kittens he had gifted her not long after their arrival.

Sliding his hand between her breasts and over her warm stomach, he grabbed the loose fabric of her nightdress, pulling and bunching it up over her waist. Pushing down the front of his linen trousers, he freed his stiff erection, pulling her harder against him. His mind drifted, as it sometimes did, to the countless nights and mornings he had spent alone before her. The anguish that was his life previous to her, asking the gods about his future and the purpose of his suffering. Knowing now, that the moment she had jumped from that black horse, running, screaming his name, she was the answer. The reward for his pain, his beautiful Aethelswith.

Reaching around her hip, he opened her legs, running his hand up and down her inner thigh. Sliding his fingers between her folds, he stopped, finding them wet. A flash of desire shot straight to his groin, pulling from him another moan. Nuzzling closer, he jutted his hardness into the crack of her behind.