Ægir's Wife Ch. 10

"Oh, yes, I wish you were here to suck it, too," Mikael growled. She chuckled that he seemed to have read her mind. "But since you can't, I have something else in mind

for you. I want to see if you are producing any milk yet."

She shook her head, "It's much too soon for that."

"Oh, I don't know. As much sucking as those ladies get, I'm sure that while your actual milk won't come in until the babies are born, I'm betting that you are producing colostrum."

Kirsty, of course, was familiar with the term. Not only had she read a dozen books or more on pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding since discovering she was pregnant, she was blessed with an expert at her disposal. While Petrine might not be as famous as Ina May Gaskin, whose books on natural and home birth were among her favorites, she was perhaps just as knowledgeable.

Of course, Mikael had made no secret of his fetish for pregnancy and lactation. But she was a bit surprised that even he would know the technical term for the thick, clear-yellowish liquid that was beginning to leak occasionally from her nipples.

She smiled secretively as she too adjusted the tablet to zoom in on her breasts and her baby bulge. Her hands began to knead her breasts gently and she was rewarded with a low groan as his cock twitched on the screen. "That's right; think about how much bigger my tits have gotten."

"How fucking huge they'll be when your milk comes in," she could hear the edge to Mikael's voice.

She felt her power as a woman, as a priestess, a shieldmaiden, and most definitely as the personification of Frejya, the goddess of love, but also sex, lust, beauty, sorcery, fertility, gold, war, and death. She was all that, and her power was heady. Her power over this man, her men, and over their cocks.

But power was to be used for the good of all and not abused. "And how you'll drink from them once the babies are fed. Drink to keep them from becoming engorged, drink so they will make even more milk. Enough for our girls..."

"And for me..." His voice was deep, low, hoarse as his hand gripped his cock tighter, moved faster along its length. She could hear the hitch in his breathing, knew that he was fast approaching his orgasm. And she knew just how to push him over...

Her fingers worked closer to her sensitive nipples, so sensitive these days that the slightest touch could sometimes elicit an orgasm. She used the control that Bjorn had taught her to forestall that eventuality. She would await his command, should Mikael see fit to give it. But it was not easy as her fingers began to work and squeeze the distended nipples.

It took only a moment for the bead of liquid to collect at the tip. In many ways, it even resembled the pre-cum that was now almost dripping down his cock. Except for the golden tinge, gold like the goddess herself.

"Yes," she heard Mikael moan. It was time.

"I bet that when my milk comes in properly, I'll be able to squirt even further than your cock can for me. Now."

She ensured that it would do just that by collecting the solitary drop of gold on her finger. She leaned further so that her face filled the screen as she brought it to her lips. Her tongue licked at it tentatively. Her eyes widened with shock as the first taste hit her.

"Sweet," they moaned together as Mikael's cock began to jerk on the screen. His divinely masculine offering of love and life bursting forth in torrents, some even hit his screen and stuck there, slowly dripping and running down.

"Come for me, my sweet Freyja," and her world exploded. She joined him in the eternal dance of completion, where the masculine and feminine melded into oneness. Each complete in itself, yet magnified in the other.

The bliss, their orgasm, the worship to forces as old and universal as life itself continued for several long moments. The only sound was their heavy breathing.

When she finally came to herself, she adjusted the tablet. "Thank you, Sir. I needed that."

Mikael too adjusted his tablet so that once more, it was his smiling face which she gazed upon. Although he did not attempt to wipe away his cum that continued to run down the screen, she gathered each precious drop into her soul.

"Not as much as I did, lilla gumman. Thank you. And quit worrying about how things will go with Sven. He loves you. You love him. And you are perfection itself."

She shook her head and drew life-giving air deep into her lungs then rereleased it to the universe in a long sigh, "Yes, but what if..." She could not bring herself even to verbalize her fears.

"Then you will deal with it just as you dealt with that angry, wounded man and father. Just as you stood toe to toe with your mother and my ex-wife. Just as you have brought new hope to my mother and daughter. And just as you have given us all new purpose and life."

"Never forget who and what you are. You are the One. Our One. And I know that you will find the words and the touch to heal my brother too. To bring him the love and peace, you have the rest of us."

"So, get that sexy ass downstairs and work your magic woman. Do your stuff, weave your spells around him, too, our sorceress."

It was the blessing and benediction that she needed, "I love you." She bent and kissed the screen.

"Jeg elsker deg."

She smiled as she turned off the video chat. Those words rang in her mind. How like the others, "Æ ælske dæ." How had she not known? Failed to hear the similarity?

She drew in a deep breath and focused her mind as she reached for the handle of the bathroom door. "Æ ælske dæ." Yes, Sven loved her too. Yes, she was the One.

And yes, come what may or not cum at all, they would handle that also. Because they were family. And love bound them tighter than his ropes ever could.

***

Sven stared into the flames. He had been watching their erotic dance for an eternity it seemed. Mostly lost in his thoughts. Trying to come to terms with what he knew now was the truth - he would never go back to sea.

The thing was when he weighed things up; there were worse things that could have happened. They could have lost her, Odin knew he had done his best to push her away. They had been incredibly lucky that none of them had been killed by Njord. Yes, some of that was advanced in technology, which made fishing the North Seas safer. But it still happened. Too damned often.

He had his brothers, his mother, an uncle, his niece, and soon they would even have babies. Yes, they were not sons. But not even that bothered him. All in all, he was a damned blessed man.

And if his legs never worked again? As they had all tried to tell him, he would find other things to do, different ways of making a difference. Mikael and Bjorn called him regularly. At first, he thought it was only their way of trying to keep him involved, trying to make him feel useful. But the questions they asked, the advice they sought was genuine. He might not be able to go back to sea with them, but he could still have a role to play in the business that was more a lifestyle.

And what if other things did not work quite as well anymore? Oh, he knew his cock was not completely dead. More than once it had risen to the occasion, especially when he caught glimpses of her heavier, larger breasts or the growing evidence of her fertility. The thing was he did not have the same control over his body that he once had, whether that be his legs or his cock.

Of course, he knew that the medications they gave him for his heart condition, especially high blood pressure, had those side effects. To make matters worse, some of them were contraindicated with those little blue wonder pills that now came in many colors.

He had wanted to talk to the doctor about it, but Kirsty and his mother were always in the room. He was having enough trouble coming to terms with the reality of his mother's kink. He was not broadcasting his sexual dysfunction in front of her.

But he had done a bit of research on the internet. It seemed that if he could stabilize his heart condition over time, and he was well on that road, then at the very least, those little blue miracles would be an option. But they were not tonight. And that was the issue.

Or perhaps not? He heard the old clock on the wall, a gift from some ancient ancestor to his bride, chime eleven. This day had spiraled into chaos since Monika had burst through the door shouting more words than he had ever heard the girl say. Both his mother and his wife had spent hours trying to calm their young ward while he and his uncle had tried to reassure the traumatized little girl.

But things had been quieter since dinner time. His mother had drowned the girl in enough of her special calming blend of herbs to lull her into a deep sleep. Nonetheless, his mother had insisted on sleeping in his old room, close enough to hear if Georgia awoke during the night.

Perhaps his wife had forgotten in the malay? Or perhaps she figured that with his mother staying over, his new less than private accommodations on the ground floor was not sufficient for such activities? Maybe she was so tired that she simply fell asleep early?

Or maybe...maybe she had changed her mind altogether? Perhaps she had lost patience with his mind fucks? Maybe she was still angry at him? Or perhaps she just did not want to deal with an old man with a bad heart when she had two younger, healthier studs? Sven chuckled, so, now he was reduced to being jealous of his brothers?

He should get up from his favorite chair beside the fireplace. Make his way to the bed behind the curtain that they had put up to afford him some semblance of modesty, not that he had much of that left after weeks recovering in the hospital. If those gowns were not bad enough, the poking and prodding robbed you of all dignity.

He inhaled deeply, worked up the courage to make the six-foot journey to his bed. Six feet? That would have once seemed so inconsequential a distance as not even to be considered. But now? Now he had to plan such things carefully. Work up the courage to tackle the task. And hope that he did not end up on his face on the floor.

He braced his hands on the arms of the chair. It was sturdy enough to support his weight. Then on to the couch, another chair, and he could practically fall into bed. It was as good a plan as any. He had even made it halfway to standing.

"Where do you think you're going? We have a date, remember?"

Sven fell back into the chair with a soft thud. The woman before him was every man's fantasy of gravidity. The baby doll nightie that she wore accentuated it all. Her full, heavy breasts. Her rounded stomach that seemed to dance with life itself. Even her slightly widened hips that made his hands itch to spank her ass. The black and red against the peaches and cream of her skin that seemed to glow with health was as captivating.

He felt the stir in the sweat pants that had become his uniform of late because of the ease of getting into them and in this case, out of them. So far, so good. The equipment was at least in the starter's block.

She walked towards him and the fire. The lace floated around her protruding baby bump, drawing his eyes. She came to rest just in front of him. Using his chair for support, as he had earlier, she lowered herself to the floor before him. As kneeling went, it was less than graceful.

Then again, that had never been his measure of this woman. It was the honest depths of her submission that pleased him. And never more than now. After all they had been through. After all he had done.

He did not deserve her trust, her submission. But she gave it nonetheless. Her gift humbled him.

Kirsty bowed her head, and her hair danced about her shoulders, chest, and arms like the flames in the fireplace. Her knees were spread wide, revealing her bare cunt. Her hands rested palms up on her knees. She was perfect in her imperfection.

Sven reached out and placed his fingers gently beneath her chin. He lifted it until their eyes met in the golden glow of the fire. His vision was blurred, and his throat was tight. His heart bounded reassuringly in his chest.

This was a moment he had never dared dream would come again. He wanted to savor each second of it. To memorize her every movement. As a man who had faced death, he was intimately aware of his own mortality. He knew that he was blessed to have escaped the Valkyries this time. But the day would come when he did not. And this was the moment he wanted to hold on to when that time came.

"Æ ælske dæ, Kirsten."

The words he had once feared so much. The ones that he always had thought made him weak. Now, they gave him strength. Resolve. Yes, he loved this woman. The babies that she carried inside her. But he loved all of them. His mother, uncle, niece, and brothers as well. They were family, but she was the crux of that. The rope that bound them all together. The cord that held his broken and faulty heart together. The one who could heal it too.

"Æ ælske dæ, Sven," she whispered as she leaned forward. Her lips touched his tenderly as her fingers threaded through his hair that was longer than it ever had been. She used it to hold him in place for her slow exploration of his mouth. As if she too wanted to memorize the touch and taste of him.

His hands strayed to her breasts that almost rested on his knees. She moaned into his mouth as he lightly pinched the hard nubs that protruded from the feathery and lacey folds. Those moans turned to whimpers and pleas when he switched to rubbing his rough fingers just across the tips.

He could not resist temptation. He drew back from the kiss, just enough to whisper against her wet and swollen lips, "My sweet Freyja."

Her body reacted instantly. Her eyes widened and held his gaze as her back arched. She bit her lower lip until it was white, he feared her teeth might even break the skin, to prevent the scream of ecstasy that he knew she so desperately needed to release.

But he was not finished with her, "That's right, Kirsten. Come, come hard, come so hard that you squirt all over the floor, my sweet Freyja."

She whimpered, tears gathered in her eyes as her back bowed even more. Her abdomen jutted out towards him, hard and glorious. His hands moved across the fecund mound. Their girls were quiet, but he was not worried. He felt them safe within, calling to his soul and heart. His daughters. Their children. The future.

He left one hand on them like a priest blessing his flock. The other hand returned to her ponderous breasts. His fingers wrapped about her right nipple and pinched. That was all it took as her body surrendered to his command. Clear fluid gushed from her bare cunt, splashing against his leg and feet before pooling beneath her knees.

He smiled, "That's my good girl. So beautiful. So ripe. So fuckable. Suck my cock, Kirsten."

She smiled as if it was the command that she had been waiting her whole life for. Her hand moved slowly, tantalizingly up his leg, beginning at his knee and teasing the inside of his thigh as she drew higher and higher.

He was half-hard before she even reached the loose front of his sweat pants. Her hand cupped his crotch. His balls rested firmly in the palm of her hands as her fingers spread out to cover his shaft. Her nail teased tenderly at the tip. Sven could feel moisture of his pre-cum gathering there.

She leaned forward; he could feel her hot breath caressing the head through even the thick material. Her other hand tugged at the elastic material about his waist, pulling it down until his whole cock sprang free. Her pink tongue came out, and she licked that single drop of moisture from the slit.

She leaned back and smiled at him in challenge, "My pleasure, Sir."

Then her soft, warm hands and hot, wet mouth began a dance as old as time. Working in tandem to arouse him. Sven watched her hair fall about her face in a torrent of red fire. He smiled as he closed his eyes and leaned back. Just to enjoy the feel of her mouth and hands working his cock.

He felt it all. The warmth and gentle pressure of her mouth and hands on his cock. Desire. Yes, he felt that too. It raged through him like the waves of a storm crashing over the deck of the ship. But still, his cock remained flaccid. Well, only partially erect. The same half-hard state that it had been in moment before. Before she had ever touched his cock.

He felt those long moments ticking away in his head. He willed his cock to respond. Yet, still, it remained unmoved, only at half-mast. Certainly not enough for penetration. Not enough to cum. Not enough to satisfy his needs or his wife either.

Sven closed his eyes to fight back the tears. Not this too. His worst nightmare was coming true. It was bad enough not to be able to return to his mistress, the sea. But not to be able to function as a man, a husband? It seemed more than he could bear.

He pushed her away. He heard and felt the pop as she released his cock from her mouth. "Leave me."

***

Kirsty shook her head, "No." Her voice was firm, confident, and no-non-sensical. While she had hoped not to face this hurdle too, she was prepared for it. She was not giving up, giving in, or running away from their problems. Ever again. She was meeting them head-on beginning with this. "No, Sven, I'm not leaving you."

Her fingers under his chin turned his head, lifted it, and forced his eyes to meet her steady gaze. "We will deal with everything together now."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but she was not giving him a chance. "So, what? Erectile dysfunction, ED, is common in men over forty. It is almost a given on the combination of drugs that you are taking for your heart, blood pressure, and pain. I knew that when I choose you."

"Why? Why then? Did you want to humiliate me? Some sick revenge?" he accused as he broke free of her hold on his chin.

The vitriol in his voice reminded Kirsty of that other time. His words seemed designed to undermine all they had rebuilt over the past few weeks, to destroy this new happiness. For a moment, she was shaken. All her carefully practiced words fled her brain. And she was just a wife hurt by her husband's accusations.

But then, from somewhere deep within, or perhaps from Valhalla itself, Freyja spoke to her and gave her the words, "No. I choose you, Sven, because I fucking love you. Æ ælske dæ. Not your cock. Not even your Domination. I love you. The man. The man that is hurting. Hell, the man that has hurt most of his life. The man that pushes everyone away."

"Well, no more. This is a family. And we face shit together. Head on."

"So, what? So, this is a 'family' problem? You're going to tell my brothers, my mother, my uncle, that I can't fuck my wife anymore?" His gaze met hers and held.

"If I fucking have to, to get it through your thick skull that we're not letting you run anymore."

He laughed, but there was no mirth in it, "I can't. I can't fucking run anywhere, woman. I can't fish the seas. And it looks like I can't fuck either. So, what, what the fuck is left for me?"

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her rounded abdomen, "These girls. Your brothers. Your mother and uncle. Monika. Me. We're all here for you. We always have been. But you were too proud and too stupid to accept it."

"The great lone wolf. Well, let me tell you, lone wolves aren't some romantic figures. Do you know what happens to them? They die. They fucking die. Because without a pack to protect one another, to hunt together, they can't survive."

"We didn't come this fucking far, go through all this shit, so that you can quit now. Have some fucking pity party for the rest of your life."

"We need you. I need you. And not just what's between your broken legs either. I need your strength. I need those fucking high protocols. I need your rope. I need you."