Ægir’s Bride Ch. 04

WARNING/TRIGGERS: In this book, I slaughter some sacred cows of our culture:

1) Madonna/Whore - A mother has every right to be as sexual as she wants...as long as she keeps the dirty behind closed doors. Dirty = the main show, the act...not all signs of love, affection and normalcy.

2) Old people make damned good lovers too - As our society ages, we need to re-think how we see aging. Especially with little blue happy pills. Just because someone is 40...50...or 90, don't mean they can't still do the dirty.

3) SSC (Safe/Sane/Consensual) - is not the only way...or maybe even the best way in this lifestyle. What works for clubs and role play may NOT go far enough to protect the sub in a power exchange RELATIONSHIP.

So be warned...last chapter stirred a hornets nest...and I have not changed a damned thing because of it...although you might be a bit surprised...

Sometimes...we should not be too quick to jump to judgment.

***

Kirsty was not sure which of them was more reluctant, procrastinating harder. She had dressed in a pair of the jeans and a t-shirt she found in the wardrobe. She had brushed her hair and checked and double checked her appearance. She looked perfectly fine.

She felt...good. Deliciously sore still. And more than a bit disappointed. She and Mikael had spent the past hour talking. Just talking. She had pulled out her tablet. Shown him a few apps and programs that she felt were right for Monika. He had asked all the right questions. She had to admit rarely had she met a father as committed to his child.

Not that most men were not good dads merely that the Big A word usually was so terrifying they did not know where to begin. They felt helpless, powerless to fix their child and ill-equipped. All too often those feelings led to frustrations, withdrawal from their child and abandonment, emotionally if not physically. But not Mikael. She admired that. And when they had gotten to talking, it was as easy, perhaps more so, than with Bjorn.

So why did his repeated promises never to let the demons out again disappoint and bother her? Had he been right? About the bad boy thing? She would have never thought herself the type for such things. In fact, Sven's messages, theirs she supposed was more accurate, were the only ones that she had responded to for that very reason. Only because they were so polite and intelligent. There had been dozens, hundreds, from 'bad boy' types demanding instant submission. But theirs...had been merely friendly.

Knowing what she did now, that all of them wrote messages at different times, she could almost laugh at how easy it would be to assign ownership. Sven, of course, was those two liners about where they were. Talking was not the man's forte, unless of course you counted dirty talk. But all of them had her number when it came to that.

She watched him in the mirror as he began changing the sheets. It was as good an excuse as she could come up with for joining him, "Let me help with that."

He shrugged and smiled, "There are extra bedding stored in boxes under the bed." He explained as he tucked in one corner of the mattress and she did the opposite.

She chuckled, "So my bedroom does not need to constantly smell of sex like the cabin did?"

He chuckled and she would have sworn the man blushed, "Something like that." They did the corners at the foot of the bed. Then he pulled another quilt this one as beautifully made as the other, but with a large red, orange and yellow sun in the middle of a light blue background.

She ran her hands across it, "It is beautiful."

"Mama made several for us all, when she was..." he shrugged. "After Bjorn was born. She spent a lot of time with her flowers and sewing."

She wanted to question him more about his mother, about life here, but he smiled tightly and held out his hand. "Can't delay this anymore, I am afraid."

She shook her head, "What do you mean? It is dinner. Not an execution."

He sighed, "It would be if baby brother had his way."

She shook her head, "Why?"

He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. "You don't get how serious what happened is, do you?"

"No, it was drop. Of course, I have read about such things. But how is that such a big deal? And why would he blame you?"

"Because I fucked up," he smiled weakly. "And I deserve it." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Were it not for the whiskers she would have thought it more in line with something Bjorn would do. "I am sorry."

"For what? Is it really all that big a deal? Some water, a bit of chocolate, tea, and..." she felt the blush rising as she remembered what else her body had craved, but she was not going there right now. "A nap. And I am fine."

He chuckled, "You might have missed something in your little list." Kirsty felt her cheeks burn even more. "I should have done all of that last night. But just as importantly I should have checked in on you this morning. I pushed too hard last night. I am sorry for that too. As I said, I won't let my demons get out of control like that again."

It was as close to an opportunity as she was going to get. She screwed up her nerve and took a step closer to him. "What if you were right?" Her voice cracked and she looked down at the dark wood flooring as she felt the heat rise in her face. "What if I like your bad boy?"

He lifted her face gently with a finger beneath her chin, "I am sorry, Kirsty. Maybe someday. But not," he stammered for a moment before continuing, "Not until I know I can control it. Until then how about we work on becoming friends? On reaching Monika? On getting to know one another?"

He was shutting her down. She felt it. Knew it deep inside. And something told her that 'friendship' would be an even harder wall to knock down than 'bad boy' had been. Maybe he even knew that. Wanted to safely hide once more.

Well, that was just too damned bad. She smiled sweetly and nodded her head. She had seduced one husband who wanted to be 'friends' first. She would find Mikael's buttons as surely as she had Bjorn's. She wanted to laugh hysterically, since when had sweet, innocent Kirsty Dickens turned into such a needy cunt? Since when did she use the 'C' word?

Since she met her handsome, rough Nordic fisherman for innocent coffee and woke up to discover herself married to three of them. Three Doms.

"Ready to face the firing squad?" he teased as he pulled her towards the door.

***

Petrine looked up from the table as they came down the stairs. Every head in the room, except her granddaughter's, swivelled towards them. Her youngest son turned a most unappealing shade of red around the ears as he tightly clinched his hands at his side. But her eldest was not much better as he stepped forward to wait at the foot of the stairs. His eyes glued to the woman as if searching for the tiniest sign of trouble.

She sighed and shook her head. Like a bone to be fought over between dogs. She remembered it all too well. Worse yet, the damned Old Man was right. Her rash actions had only made the situation worse. Not that Kirsty did not need her assistance, the girl clearly had. She did not regret that. Only how she had done it. And Olaf could just live with that...as she crossed the room to the other side of the stairs.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she smiled.

Kirsty was the one, who stepped forward. Placing herself between Mikael and his older brother, she looked as much at him as she did at Petrine when she answered. "I am fine. Honestly."

Bjorn joined the crowd at the bottom of the steps and held out his hand, "We were all just worried."

Petrine smiled as she watched the woman step down one more step and reach out her hand. She first caressed Bjorn's cheek and then smiled at Sven, "I am perfectly fine. Mikael took great care of me," she blushed.

Petrine wondered if she realized that she stood directly between the three of them. Her fingers never releasing Mikael's even as she caressed his brother. She smiled. Yes, they had chosen well. Now, she had something she needed to do...while she had the courage.

She smiled up at the younger woman, "Part of that is my fault, Kirsty. I am sorry. I did not handle the situation as I should have."

She sucked in her breath and looked first at Mikael. Her son was staring straight down at the step upon which he stood. How had she ever thought this man uncaring? She of all people should know the truth. The problem with her middle son was that he cared too damned much. And yet again, she had hurt him badly. Him, worse than the others...even Kirsty.

"Mikael, I am sorry. What I said was truly out of line," those words came surprisingly easy because they were the truth. No doubt her son had messed up. So too had she.

He shook his dark head and looked up sheepishly, "No, Mama, you were right. I was an idiot. Stupid. I deserved everything you said," he looked from brother to brother, "And worse."

Petrine shook her head, "No, Mikael, yelling at you like you were five years old did not help. It only made the situation worse."

She paused and inhaled. Looking at the three of them as they stood there, she realized that the goddess damn Old Man was right about the other too. Somewhere over the past few decades, her 'boys' had grown into men. And as he had told her...damned fine ones too. Probably despite her more than because of her.

This part was harder. Not because it was not equally true, but because of what it symbolized. She was passing some Rubicon along life's way. She was no longer just their mother. And as right as she knew it was to let them go...to let them grow and fulfil their destinies. That did not make it any easier. And all the 'reasons' why this was so long coming were nothing more than flimsy excuses. Damn, she really hated how right the man had to be sometimes. She had held them too tightly, too long, until she had held them back perhaps. But no more.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. She fought back tears, "I owe all of you an apology. These old eyes have failed to see the truth that was right in front of me. None of you are my little 'boys' anymore. You have not been in a very long time. You are men...and as someone told me, damned fine ones too. No thanks to me."

She caught a smile on her husband's face as Sven took her hand, "No, Mama, we understand. You did what you needed and none of us blame you. You are an amazing mother and we are lucky as hell to have you."

"Damn it, don't go making the woman cry. She always burns dinner when she cries," she felt his arm about her waist and without even realizing what she was doing leaned into the man that had become as much her best friend as her husband and lover for the past few years.

Her sons nodded and moved towards the table. All except Mikael, he hung back on that step. Even as Bjorn pulled Kirsty towards the table with his other hand. She saw the girl turn and look back at him. Mikael smiled weakly and shook his head, "I need to see to Monika."

The young woman frowned but nodded reluctantly as she followed Bjorn and Sven to the table. Yes, it was right. It was as it should be.

But what of her? Where did she belong now? Sixty-three might seem old to all of them, but wasn't it just yesterday that she was the bride. Trying, alone, to find her way. To be what they needed without losing who she was. That road had not been easy. All the jealousy, just as she saw in her sons now. Then no sooner had they began to overcome that...when...

"Good girl," the tears slipped unbidden from her eyes. She shook her head as she looked into his eyes. How many times had she heard those words? Why could they still make her weak in the knees? Wet. And hold out the only lifeline she had in this new world where she no longer knew who or what she was. It had been a quarter of a century or more since she felt this lost and adrift. "We will talk later," he promised. "After your punishment."

She was glad there was no fishing hooks around at that moment. She wondered if her aim had gotten any better over the years. So why as lost and confused as she felt right now, why did those words thrill her more than they frightened her?

"Fucking bastard," she cursed under her breath. The damned man just had to be right about all of it, didn't he? Because as much as she might want to deny it, he was right that too...it had been way too long since she had been what she was...a real sub. And not just a mouthy brat or a role player in the bedroom. She would have said that she had no idea what that even was anymore. But the tingles in her tummy told her that would be a lie.

"Did you say something, old woman?" he whispered as he bit her ear lightly. Just enough to get her attention.

"I said, Yes, Sir," she replied. And smiled...how long had it been since those words really meant something? They felt as natural now as they always had.

He nodded with that smile, "I thought so. Now let me help you get dinner on the table before our sons riot."

***

Olaf watched them as he helped Petrine clear the dishes from the table. Mikael had spent the whole meal with Monika. He knew what his son was doing...separating himself from all of them even more. There was no doubt that the man had screwed up. That was not the issue. What his son was forgetting was Dom Rule Number One: Doms are human. You will screw up. Learn from it. But learning from it was not wallowing in self-pity. He would talk to him later.

Right now the dark storm which was blowing strongest was from their youngest. Maybe Bjorn was having the hardest time with all of this now because his childhood had been so damned charmed. Looking as his wife, he had to give the woman credit. She was a fighter. She had fought her way through more testosterone than he wanted to think about to make her own place here. She had fought back the pain of losing three men that she loved. And of course, she had fought the hardest demon of all.

His Rachel, soft, nurturing and oh so fucking submissive had been eaten alive, absorbed in the pillar of strength that had walked into this room one day with a baby on her hip. Her green eyes shining from another round of the tears that had not seemed to stop in close to a year. She had stood there before them all and declared in a loud voice, "From now on, I am Petrine. The rock." And that had been it. As simple as that she had buried all that pain so deeply that no one had dared question it or her.

But it was still there. He had seen it this morning in those green eyes that despite what the woman might claim saw almost as good as they ever had. And she was damned sexy with her reading glasses as she hunched over that damned computer with her fingers whizzing away on that keyboard. So those did not count.

He inhaled. He hoped like hell he was strong enough for this. Opening all of that pain...after all these years...wounds like that only got worse with time. And that was his fault. His mistake to fix now.

"Go on back to the cabin, Rachel. I will join you after I finish cleaning up. A half an hour or so, get a relaxing bath...it will pinken that sweet butt up nicely for me," he said as positioned himself so that no one could see him lightly swat that bottom. It was not the first time that such things had happened in this house...just the first time in a very, very, very long while.

He saw her look up. He caught the fire in those green eyes and thrilled at it. Then she nodded and simply whispered, "Yes, Sir."

He chuckled as he leaned in and nipped at that ear one more time, "The way you say that Old Woman still sets this Old Man's heart aflutter. Now off with you."

He watched her as she walked over to their sons and Kirsty. The two woman spoke for a couple of moments. He noticed that whatever they said seemed to darken those clouds over Bjorn until the young man stood and followed his mother through the door.

Maybe he should follow his own advice to his wife, but he knew that feeling all too well. In the end, he decided to simply have a brief tug on his pipe before finishing up the dishes...and dealing with the other as well.

Bjorn was leaning against the side of the house when he stepped out. He walked over to him and lit the pipe which he kept hidden on the window seal. He offered it to the younger man but he laughed roughly, "I'd be careful. If Mama caught you with that," Bjorn chuckled.

Olaf shrugged, "A man my age has to have some pleasures in life." Not that the damned pipe was one of those. He nodded back towards the light from the window, "Not as easy as you thought it would be?" He would leave it at that. Let the man know that he was here if he needed to talk, that he understood.

The younger man was silent for so long that he thought he had either not heard him or simply preferred not to discuss it. Olaf was preparing to put his pipe back in its hiding place when he finally did, "How did you do it?"

Olaf laughed, "Not one damned bit easier or simpler than you are, son. Our way of life is not easy. Sharing something as special and precious as the woman you love...even with the brothers you love...is not meant to be easy."

"I want to punch him, beat him to a pulp. He fucked up. Really fucked up. And she and Mama, all of you, are just forgive and forget. But it don't fucking work like that with me. Now she is going to help him with Monika's bath. She promised..." The younger man pushed off the wall and started pacing. His fists were knotted at his side as if he really did need to hit something.

"So which is it, Bjorn? The fact that she dropped unexpectedly hard? Or the fact that it may have brought her closer to your brother? Which is really bothering you?" The younger man swung around so fast that for a moment Olaf braced for the punch which he was sure was to come.

Not that he could not still hold his own with any of them. Well, maybe not, but he could make them think twice about doing it again. Whoever thought growing older meant, growing weak and senile needed a lesson all their own. He was far from ready to take up a rocking chair and waiting to die. Hell, no, there was plenty of fight, love and life left in his old bones.

But that punch landed instead on the hard wood of the door frame, "Why now? Why the fuck did he have to mess it all up for me just when I was getting close to her?"

Olaf stilled his voice as his own pain resurfaced. How often had he thought the same damned thing about this man's father? Stig had been dead almost seven years and honestly maybe he was still battling it. Wanting to place a portion of the blame on the shoulders of a corpse. He bit back the ironic laughter that threatened to bubble over. Like fathers, like sons?

He sighed before opening his mouth, "Mess what up, son? What has Mikael messed up for you?"

Bjorn blushed and looked at the ground. He was silent for another long moment, "The whole damned scene I had planned."

Olaf nodded, "So you were going to really put the new sub through her paces? See how far you could push her too?"

Bjorn looked at him like he had grown three heads of some ancient Norse god, "Hell, no, unlike my brother, I am no fucking sadist."

Olaf chuckled, "Don't knock it until you try it. But if that is not the case, then why exactly can you not stick with your plans?"

"Because she needs to rest. She needs..."

"A break?" Olaf shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know. She is not my sub. I do not know what she needs. Hell, I have not been doing a very good job of..." He saw the younger man stiffen and realized that even after Rachel outed them, their sons were not ready to accept the truth.

He stopped himself and changed the subject, "Do you remember your first hangover, Bjorn?"

Bjorn laughed nervously, whether from the reminder or with relief that he had changed the subject. "Pretty damned unforgettable experience."