Ægir's Wife Ch. 01

Kirsty stared out at the fjord. Its sheer beauty took her breath away. The water were relatively still this morning, not the choppy waves of the storms. But it was the way that the majestic peaks of rock rose almost straight out of the blue water and how green vegetation, mostly grasses and low shrubs, hung stubbornly to the sides of those rocks, except for the places where the ascent was so steep that nothing could hang on. There was such a rustic beauty to this place, even as what Petrine warned her would be a harsh winter closed in fast.

Already it was practically dark all day long, only a couple of hours daylight in the middle of the afternoon. But it was the Northern lights that she had heard about all her life that fascinated her most. A couple of times these past few days when she could not sleep all alone in that monstrosity of a bed, she had snuck out and just sat on this pier and watched them dance like the gods and goddesses across the dark night sky. She was certain she had never seen anything as beautiful and could not imagine anything that could compete with their magnificence.

Kirsty was still a bit awed with all the changes in her life in less than two weeks. She had gone from being virtually alone in a city of eight million people to being part of a family, odd though they could be in some ways. Petrine was everything that she had always wished her own mother could be.

And working one-on-one with her step-daughter, Monica, was fulfilling in a way that her work with dozens of autistic children for an hour once a week or less, just never could be. Watching the almost daily progress in the little girl was rewarding in a way she had never imagined. She had not realized it until coming here, but the truth was that she had begun to burn-out on even the career, which was the highlight of her old life.

Of course, her 'marriage' to three über hot fishermen was beyond anything she had ever dared imagine. Better even than the embarrassingly spicy erotica by her favorite author Raquel Graffen. She chuckled, 'damned if the woman only knew.' Hell, Bjorn alone with his stunning good looks that belonged on the cover of one of Graffen's books was more than a girl like her could ever hope for.

Kirsty knew she was not ugly, but with her flaming red hair, freckles that covered way too much of her zaftig body. She could buy that some men might find her full breasts and round hips appealing but it was her tummy that never seemed to get any flatter or tighter, no matter how many hours she spent on the treadmill at the gym or how many crunches she did, that bothered her most. At best, she was...average.

But none of them were...especially Bjorn. She knew that men were not supposed to be called beautiful but he was. With his longish blond hair that begged her to touch it, those entrancing green eyes, the body that looked like he spent hours in the gym simply from his work and that smile that could light any room...and hid the darkness of Loki himself.

If that was not enough, he was even more intelligent than he was good looking. Whether it was philosophy, ancient mythology or the science, the man was one of the best read people she had ever met...let alone for a 'simple fisherman' as he said. As a lover he was more than any woman could ask for, passionate and yet tender, gentle and so damned sweet it stopped her heart sometimes.

If that was not enough, Mikael was a devastating combination of caring single dad to Monika and 'bad boy.' He might not be as classically handsome as his 'baby brother' with his darker hair and thick beard that she suspected hid a face as handsome as Bjorn's. No, Mikael was more like this land...rustic beauty that reached something deep inside of her.

Especially those grey eyes that could transform into molten silver with the heat of passion. She smiled as her fingers automatically rose to trace the spot just over her left breast that bore his silvery white mark. Knife play was not something that she would have thought she would find so intensely erotic...but she did...just as much as she loved Bjorn's floggers or Sven's ropes.

Honestly, this place, these people, her new life were almost perfect. Almost...

Except for him. Sven. He reminded her of the peak she saw in the distance. It rose taller than any of the others around it. Standing as it did at the fork of the waters, just as he did between tradition and modernity, trying to fight the tide and navigate his family safely through the rough waters. Its white grey face reminded her of the man too. Though he was barely forty his hair was already thickly laced with the same silver as his mother's. His blue eyes could reflect the same icy cold of the waters he had fished for longer than she had been alive.

Sometimes her heart broke for the man, who had never been a little boy, who felt as if he must bear the whole weight of his family upon too narrow shoulders. Her Atlas. She sighed as she reminded herself...that was his choice too. She had tried so hard to reach out to him, to comfort and care for him as she did Bjorn and even Mikael. It seemed though that all Sven knew was taking. Taking what he wanted, when he wanted, and tossing it aside when he did not.

Her hand went to her lower abdomen. She knew that she should be happy, glad that she was not pregnant. Not yet anyway. Not this soon. Not with so much still unsettled especially between her and Sven. Of course, she knew that was going to be a major disappointment to him. His need to breed her like a prize heifer at a county fete still bothered her, hurt her deeply.

It was not that she did not want a baby. She did. Almost desperately. When her six year relationship ended a few months ago, she had been more upset about all the time she had wasted on the wrong man than the fact that he had succumbed to his family's pressure to an arrange marriage with a second cousin from India. Of course, when they had announced his new wife was pregnant. Kirsty chuckled at the memory...well, that was how she had ended up in this mess.

Was it a mess though? Really? She and Bjorn had almost immediately bonded, despite her initial reserve around her sexy Thor. Though things had been a bit rougher with Mikael, she could never resist his sexy daddy side any more than she could the bad boy in her bed. She had no doubt that they both loved her too. Hell, she had even gained an instant family with Mikael's daughter and a mother-in-law that was more mother than in-law. She loved the quiet, peaceful beauty of the Holding after a lifetime of the discomforting noise, hustle and fast pace of London.

No, honestly only two things still bothered her. Sven's attitude towards their relationship. And the unconventionality of it all. She had not even been able to broach that sensitive issue with the one person she considered a genuine friend, the cranial osteopath Roz from work. And Roz was as open about her own kinks as anyone she had ever met. Just that when they messaged, she was never quite certain how to explain...three husbands.

And after a disastrous first experience, she had not dared go into town with Olaf and Petrine, though they offered every time they went. The idea of knowing stares and whispered foreign words that while she might not know the exact meaning, she knew exactly what they were saying behind her back was a bit too daunting to the woman that has spent a live time trying to live up to everyone's expectations...being the good girl.

Her nipples hardened within her bra at those words. That had nothing to do with trying for over a quarter of century to please her parents, especially her career-driven mother. No, these past few months as she went deeper and deeper into her own submissive nature through her saucy e-books, those words had taken on new meaning. And when one of the guys said them to her in those sexy Dom voices, she got so incredibly wet. So wet...and horny.

She laughed and the sound echoed off the water and cliffs. Until she had agreed to meet her on-line friend for a 'simple coffee' while his boat was docked in Tilbury, Kirsty had been practically a virgin. She was in university before she lost her virginity to a boyfriend that she had been seeing for months. That had quickly faded though.

Then sex had just never played much of a role in her six year relationship with Raj. At first she had thought it sweet and old-fashioned that they had been dating for several months before they became intimate. If the sex was nothing spectacular and infrequent, well, there were more important things she told herself...like shared goals and values. But that too had been nothing more than an excuse for not rocking the boat with a man that even her picky mother approved of.

It was for certain that Nancy Dickens would not approve of her current situation. Three husbands aside, the fact that Nordic fishermen did not met her mother's rather narrow list of acceptable occupations for her future son-in-law...sons-in-laws. Not even Bjorn's brilliant conversation and thoughtful insights would impress her mother. Then again Kirsty should be accustomed by now to being a disappointment.

So why should any of that matter? What her mother thought? What a town full of people that she did not even know said? Wasn't what mattered the fact that she cared for them...and they cared for her?

And the smoking hot sex did not hurt either. Hell, she had come more in the past two weeks than she had her whole lifetime up until then. Not that sex was everything, but great sex sure beat occasional bad sex any day. Just that after all you can eat buffet of it with three hot husbands, this starvation diet was wearing thin after less than a week.

She was just about to get up and head back to the house when she noticed it. A boat turning up the fork in the fjord that led to the Holding. Boats were common enough around here. She saw hundreds every day. They were as common a means of transportation as cars...maybe more so. But not boats this size. There were not many of those. But Ægir's Captive was one of them. She held her breath hopefully as the ship drew closer. All the ships around here were the same plain black and white so that would be no help. She could only wait until it was close enough to read its name.

Patience had never been one of her biggest virtues, but she had no choice this time. Until she saw that familiar name. She was not certain what to do. Should she run back to the house, call Petrine and Monika? She realized that some part of her selfishly wanted a few moments alone with them. Things had been so incredibly tense before they left. Bjorn was jealous of her growing feelings for Mikael.

And well Sven was...Sven. Since he called the shots as the captain he was the one that decided they simply had to make the sudden and unscheduled trip. Had the past few days helped? She would hate to think that they had killed one another. She laughed again as she remembered Bjorn's suggestion that he and Mikael would tie Sven up and throw him in the hold with the fish if they had to. Had they? A part of her almost hoped they had...she would love to see the great and mighty Atlas brought low and lying with the fish.

She smiled as the boat turned towards the pier on which she stood. She saw Bjorn's larger form working ropes and readying to tie it off. Then she was relieved to see Mikael waving from her at the back of the boat...if she were married to three fishermen maybe she needed to start learning the language...was that the stern or the bow? Of course if both Bjorn and Mikael were on deck then that meant that Sven was at the helm as usual. So much for seeing him surrounded by dead fish. Oh well, maybe that was a good sign. She would know soon enough as her guys threw the ropes toward the pier and Bjorn leapt off the boat and began tying it off.

She fought the urge to run to him and fling herself in his strong arms...but just barely. But the boat was no sooner secured than she did not have to worry about that. She was engulfed in not one set of strong arms, but two and passed back and forth between heated kisses until she was intoxicated. And breathless...totally breathless. One thing was certain...Bjorn and Mikael seemed to have buried the hatchet...and not in one another either. Things were definitely looking up.

At least until she looked up and saw his dark countenance stared down at them all from the boat. "God morgan, my sweet wife," but the steely cold of his voice did not match his words. And when he turned to his brothers and said "Toffelhjälten," something she did not understand in Norwegian, she watched both Bjorn and Mikael fist their hands at their sides and blush.

She frowned as Bjorn and Mikael nodded at him and released her slowly, "What did he say?" she demanded of them, holding onto Bjorn's coat.

Bjorn blushed even redder and looked down at the weathered wood as he replied, "Slipper hero."

She shook her head, "I don't get it. What does that mean?"

This time it was Mikael who responded, "It means that you have us under your foot. Pussy whipped I believe you would say. It is just one of the many colorful phrases used here."

Kirsty felt the air whoosh from her sails. It seemed that this trip had not been as successful as she hoped. At least not when it came to him. She nodded and smiled weakly as she kissed them both on the cheek. "See you back at the house. I will make sure that lunch is ready."

Squeezing Mikael's' hand she added, "Monika will be so glad to see her Papa." She could tell he wanted to ask more about how the child had been in his absence but Kirsty only smiled, "Go on, and finish up here. We will be waiting."

She looked up at Sven before she turned to head back to the house, "Glad you are home safely too, husband."

"I am sure," he replied. "Did you obey?"

She knew exactly what he was asking. How could she not? She had spent the past hour shifting uncomfortably from cheek to cheek on the cold, hard surface of the pier. The butt plug was not painful, merely uncomfortable, especially sitting down. It took all her strength not to tell him to go fuck himself once more.

But she had spent the last week planning this one too. She knew that if she were to truly make this work, this new life of hers, she could not settle for anything half way. Or in this case, two-thirds. She needed it all. This husband as well as the others. So she inhaled deeply and smiled, "You may see for yourself tonight. I choose you, Sven."

She caught only a glimpse of his and Bjorn's shocked faces as she turned to leave. Mikael though clasped her hand and smiled as he whispered, "Good girl."

She returned his smile though she feared it was far weaker than she would have liked. She hoped with all her heart that this was the right course. And that she had the courage to go through with it. "Be with me on this one, my sweet Freyja," she prayed to the ancient Norse goddess of love, fertility and battle. Bjorn might have selected her as Kirsty's pseudo-patron saint, but when it came to his oldest brother she would need all the goddess's gifts...in love, reproduction and definitely battle. With Sven this was war...one that she needed to win if she were to ever truly be happy here.

***

Sven had spent the rest of the day in an exceptionally foul mood. He simply could not figure the woman out. After their parting, he had expected her to be angry and deviant. To run to his brothers and their newly formed alliance. He had thought she might even have trouble picking, which of the two shared her bed this first night back. Hell, he had considered the possibility that she might choose both. But he had never for a moment thought it would be him that she called this night.

He knew he was simply delaying the inevitable at this point. Dinner, which had been a rather austere occasion with little conversation, other than the odd comment between him and his uncle about the trip, had been over for a couple of hours. She had spent most of it by the fireplace with Mikael and Monika playing the good mommy to his niece.

Fuck not even that seemed to be going to plan right now. His baby brother had been almost gloating the morning that he informed him that she was definitely not pregnant. Although he had managed to take Bjorn down a couple of notches when he reminded him that news meant he too was not to be a daddy. But clearly, she was doing a fine job as surrogate mother to his niece.

And loving wife to his brothers. Damn them. Damn them to Helveti. Damn her especially. Why did she have to be so... Fucking real? That damned face and those eyes that could hide nothing. How had someone like her actually survived as long as she did in this fucked up world without a protector?

That was a big part of the problem. She brought out his need to protect...something no other woman ever had. She made him want things no other woman ever could. Damn her for that.

He was the one though that was truly damned. Damned to a night in that monstrosity of a bed and that farce of a bedroom. Not that he did not love dungeons...he did. Just that he did not particularly like the idea of sleeping where you played. Or the generations of brides, who had called that place home. He had seen his mother's pain in this lifestyle first hand. It was one of the reasons he had wanted no part in this family tradition.

He had spent days trying to figure a way out of this one. He supposed he could just walk away. It was not like he had to join the happy little threesome. He could do as he had proposed all along...continue as he had for a lifetime in casual, non-committed relationships with married women who were safe.

But every time he had almost convinced himself that was the right thing to do for everyone, her face would appear in his mind. His cock would get rock hard. He would be forced to admit just how fucking impossible it would be watching her live happily ever after with his brothers...under the same damned roof...her room right fucking next door to his own.

Virtually sound proof or not he could not imagine twenty or thirty years of sleeping in his bed wondering what was happening on the other side of that door. Of course, nothing stopped him from doing like his uncle. There was still plenty of places on the Holding for another cabin. Perhaps Mikael would even consider letting him finish the one he had begun for Greta.

None of that mattered tonight though. He looked around the deck that had been in perfect order for hours. He could not find another single reason to delay this any longer. He considered one more time bringing her back here. It was the strategy that had worked up until now...keeping her in his territory, his terms.

But he had given pretty specific instructions after dinner and even if she had opted to help Mikael bath their daughter and put Monika to bed, she had probably been kneeling way too long on that hard floor already. Bright guy that he was. He just had to be obsessive-compulsive with his subs.

She was not just any sub though. She was his wife. There was a difference. A huge one. The fact that he still hoped that one day soon she would be the mother of his child was just part of that difference. After a lifetime of being overly cautious none of his subs could possibly become pregnant, the feel of her tight cunt wrapped around his bare cock was more intense sometime than he had ever imagined.

Everything about the woman was intense. And that was an emotion he had spent a lifetime pushing aside. Until that first afternoon in his cabin with her, he had never felt that thrill...that alive...except when he stared Njord and Ran in the face during the fiercest storms, challenged them and snatched his life back from them at the last moment.

How did he snatch it back from her though? That was what he had spent days trying to figure out. How did he escape her loving arms when for the first fucking time in his whole life he looked forward to bringing the boat into port? When he wanted nothing more than to swing her up in the air as his brothers had, watch her smiling and laughing...and know that she truly was glad he was home. Him. Not Bjorn. Not Mikael. Not them. Him!