by Poppet
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I can't die? None of us die. I'll always be here for you, poppet. Don't you fret. Even if Emma brings the mountain down on top of us I'll not meet my maker. Okay?”
Caressing her back, it pleases me that she's as immune to the bite of winter as we are. The t-shirt is an insubstantial sheath, riddling my blood with desire I shouldn't act on. I owe Gunn the benefit of the doubt even if my dick has other ideas. She hasn't had the time to adjust, we'd probably break her and make her as angry as our goddess.
Not acting on my base impulse is taking more energy than I have right now.
Chapter 19
Dweller in Frigg's bosom
In such deeds we rejoiced
~ Thjódólfr
Deliah:
He feels so warm and safe, it's doing crazy bad things to me.
“Did you eat your apple?” he says, in my ear so close to his mouth.
Sagging despondently, I give a brief shake of my head, unwilling to release him yet.
Sigh.
Always the chief, always in command. I bet he'd suck badly at being a bottom, not that any cuffs on earth would manage to tie him to a bedpost. The rope they use to haul cargo ships, maybe.
Pulling away I cuddle back into the pillow, watching the man sitting rigidly on the edge of his bed with so much tension exuding out of him that it's palpable.
Is he pissed that I didn't eat the weird apple?
“It's strange, Ewan. There's a reason why little girls should read Snow White.”
Leaning across his bed propped on an elbow, he surveys me with eyes flickering between bronze and honey, “You question my character? You're an odd bird, Liah. You miss me enough to cry yourself into a coma but don't trust me enough to eat an apple.”
“It's not an apple. It's freaking gold! I know the trend is to stick gold leaf on everything from chocolates to vodka, but it goes against my nature to eat the stuff.”
“It's not the metal gold, it is a naturally growing golden apple from the deathless acre of Odainsaker. It keeps the gods alive which is why Asgard went into deathcon three when Loki kidnapped Idunn from her orchard, as she is the keeper of the apples and the giver of eternal life. It is arcana, which means it is a powerful remedy, a secret kept safe by gods and myths. I have no intention of poisoning you Liah, the plan is to empower you so your inherent Jotünn talents will surface.”
Winding a lock around my index finger I watch him fiddle with the thick quilt, tracing the outlines in the fabric, forcing the muscles in his chest to pop out and distract me every two seconds.
I'm happy he's back, needing to make idle conversation to keep him engaged, “What is yotin?”
“It's the term used to label any giant, of every clan. The jötnar not only live in caves the world over but we all have the ability to emit light, usually from our eyes. These latent gifts have yet to be activated in you because you've grown up bereft of the foods from home, and until you reach that potential you have every man in this crypt holding his breath with anticipation. You are distracting my men when I need their heads focused solely on the impending war.”
“Make it my fault why don't you,” I grumble, looking back at his hand tracing lethargic circles around a swirl.
Since when is what men think or do any of my doing? Gunn's not distracted, he's a damn machine. You're not distracted, only Adam is distracted and I don't see his infatuation causing the system to unbalance and turn to chaos.
He gives me a fleeting wink, “The Judas clause comes in handy.”
“The Judas clause?” I ask, finally sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed, padding lazily to my bag and withdrawing the big golden apple.
“The Judas clause is to always blame the innocent party. It's basic reverse psychology. It usually works too.”
Sitting back down, rolling the apple like a ball between my hands, I frown at the massive man, “Judas wasn't innocent.”
“Yes he was, but that's neither here nor there...” he says, reaching across and catching the rolling apple, hijacking it, taking a mammoth bite out of it in a crisp shuck. Chewing, he hands it back, half gone, speaking with his mouth full, “There, now you know it's not poisoned. If I wanted to put you to sleep I'd just use my vocal magick, however, I prefer my victims lucid and screaming when I defile them.”
The way he says it, as an inconsequential fact revealed in a tone dipped in seduction and basted with dripping charisma, the hairs raise on my neck and a frisson of appeal slinks hotly down my spine.
“Defile? The one in the top secret drawer?” I tease, testing his intention here.
“There's no secret about the top, darling.”
Oh lord above, save my tears because I see me needing a big supply in my near future. This man is talking my language and batting innuendo like a ninja catching flies with chopsticks.
I knew he preferred top. Typical control freak. I should have guessed he'd be that way inclined considering his control over everything else in his microcosm.
“That would take a fuck load of trust...” I mumble, reflecting on my bad karma with men.
“And I have plenty of loads... with which to fuck,” he's chuckling under his breath now, forcing me to expose my smirk at his suggestion.
“We only rape our enemies, darling. You are safe here, if you eat your apple.”
Making a choice I place it on his bedside table, leaning back against the headboard and giving him my 'so what ya gonna do about it, put your money where your mouth is' stare.
“I'll rephrase that, if you don't eat the apple you'll be safe in here.”
“Bipolar much?” I grin, a laugh determined to cramp my haughty facade.
Picking Bella up, he puts her down on the floor. The second we're alone on his bed he moves to lean over me with such speed that my breath hitches and my nervous tick pulses in my dimple.
Jeez, the man can move fast for his size.
Two penetrating eagle eyes stare at me when he murmurs in my face, “If you do not eat the apple I'll be cleaning your blood off my sheets later.”
“Is this like truth or dare?” I quip, my heart still hammering to Timbuktu on a one way express trip.
“Truth or dare? I'm unfamiliar with it but it rolls right off the tongue like a creamy tart, doesn't it.”
“You're such a flirt,” I say, pushing him away and reclaiming the half eaten apple. Boosting away from me he rolls onto his side, strategically leaving a hand high on my thigh.
Why am I so damn horny these days? Why do I feel like I've known him forever when I've only known him little over a day? Why does none of this cult weird shit freak me out? None of this is normal but it just feels so average and 'right'.
Crunching into the apple, I chew it, watching him watching me. It's not too bad akshly, a bit tropical tasting like fruit punch.
He smiles at me, saying, “Your lips now look like you've got gold lipstick on.”
“It's seventies retro. Don't knock the fever.”
That makes me want to laugh, picturing him in one of those yucky one piece suits that exposes the chest and clings to everything else. Bwahahaha.
“I've eaten the apple too so I can hear every single thing you think. We have our own style, we don't need to mimic the petty trends of humans.”
“You mean you couldn't hear them before?” I ask, mentally kicking myself for thinking about how badly I want to lick that vein which stitches over his shoulder muscle.
He sits up, running his palm over his almost shaved head, bunching himself up like a gladiator about to take on Caesar, “Liah, we need to get real here for a second.”
“I am real, the only hallucination in here is your guilty conscience,” I wink, playing with fire, munching my apple.
He's not smiling, and that puts me on edge. Lowering my arm, resting it on my leg while still holding the apple, I stare back at the dude who looks like he's about to perform an exorcism.
“What?” I demand. Don't drop bombs
on me, I don't have a bomb shelter. You stole the walls I built and reduced me to a feeble stereotype.
“Liah, listen to me. This is fucked up serious.”
“I'm all ears, Ewan. Bella is my witness.”
He exhales, his visage pinched with the burp he probably just swallowed to fester in his gut. Heartburn's a bitch baby.
“It is heartburn,” he says. It's so guttural and throaty that it sounds like a warning growl.
“What is? Do you have those little white sucky sweeties. They stop the acid–”
“You are heartburn, not I have heartburn. You are killing me slowly. I fucking hate this shit!”
Putting the apple aside, I hold my arms out in the, lay your shit at my door, pose. “What did I do, Ewan? Nothing! I haven't provoked anyone. Okay, maybe I provoked Gunn by accusing him of having a boner for you, but that's it. I swear on my freaking left eye that I haven't intentionally caused drama with any of your crew. Or you.”
“You accused Gunn of having a boner for me? And you're still breathing and own both kneecaps? Damn, I must remember to give the man the seat of valor at breakfast,” he grins, derailed from his pain quest.
“It was the only thing that made sense. I'm not used to being hated on first sight. If I'm not welcome here and am giving you heartburn and causing shit in the ranks, then just tell me, and I'll fuck right off again. I don't need to be here, I didn't deliberately climb a tree to screw up your precious fucking existence. In fact let me save you the damn energy!”
Flouncing off his bed, I slip my feet into my shoes, getting on my knees to call Bella out from under his bed. “Bella come baby, let's go find a home for us. One far away from arseholes who want to blame all their issues on us, even if we're here by invitation.”
“Damn it, Liah! No, that's not what I meant!”
Sitting back on my heels, I salute him with my middle finger, “Fuck off. Alright? Just fuck off.”
“I don't want to fuck off, I want to fuck you!”
The vehement statement is like being hit on the head with a mallet. Stunned, I stare at him looming large in front of me, curling and hunting closer, blocking any hope of running.
He's lying! I'm not that fucking naive.
“Bullshit! You're just saying that to see how I'll react. It's not funny so don't joke. I'm in no mood to have you take my trust and pride and slice it up into little exhibits to parade to the crowd who'll laugh at me with you when you retell how gullible I was that I–”
He reaches down and snatches me off the floor as if I'm a tissue he dropped. It's effortless, his face so stubbornly set that I can't read this new expression at all.
“The only thing stopping me is your size. I told you to eat the whole apple, but Deliah fucking knew better. Gunn has made it patently clear that he's not interested, although he is warming to you, but fuck girl, what I wouldn't give to slap you down on this bed and break your back the way I broke that pathetic prick earlier. You can't handle me but don't think it hasn't occurred to me, or that the desire to follow through and seal your fate hasn't been on my mind.”
Crivens, he's dead fucking serious.
To destroy any lingering doubt he makes good on his threat, body slamming me on his bed the way a child throws a toy in mid-tantrum, blocking out the light when he follows the momentum, crushing the breath out of me with his weight, gripping a warm hand around my neck, pushing me deeper into the soft linen and silencing my shocked squeal with his mouth.
His hip is digging into my crotch, pressing into the adrenaline pump of instant turn on.
I can't hurt him, he said so, he proved it, so I do something I've always wanted to do, I open my mouth to his plundering exploration, wrap my legs around his hips, and dig my nails so far into his skin they'll be calling him Jesus tomorrow.
Chapter 20
So outrageous and unrestrained were their ways that they ravished other men's wives and daughters; they seemed to have outlawed chastity and driven it to the brothel.
~ Saxo, Vol. I (on the berserk'rs)
Ewan:
Pulling back, the minx gives me her gunpowder smile, fully loaded and ready to explode with a bit of sweat-laden impact.
I won't handfast, I'll just sample the goods; Gunn won't persecute me for that. And if he hasn't made up his mind by this time tomorrow Deliah will be mine, end of.
Marigold flecks illume her eyes, giving me a measure of reassurance. As a human I'd destroy her, as an eagle becoming she may live to survive this minor ordeal. I know she's been hurt by brutality in the past but this is our way, it's how we do things, but for pity's sake I'm a man and would have to be paraplegic to not want to do this.
Greedy to explore I snag the shirt, ripping it down the front to expose her chest, pinioned her with the weight of my body seated on her hips. I'll sing her better afterward, just to be sure. Right now there's a beast inside me raging for satisfaction and he refuses to lie down and hide back in his cage.
The growl rumbles my chest as I look down at the full tits staring up at me with hardened points. Leaning, I bite one, maneuvering to unbutton her jeans, the sensation burning a forge down my navel to tighten my nuts.
She flexes to push up and I don't hesitate, releasing her jeans and using the hand to slap her flat. Pinning her to the bed with the hand planted between her tits, I move off her hips, impatient, ripping them down her legs hard enough to skin her thighs.
She gasps, clenching her jaw against the unexpected chaff.
“Kick them off,” I order, using 'the voice'.
Her shoes drop ominously to the floor, her knees pumping up and down while she shoves the encumbrance off her ankles.
The lady goes commando, how fucking convenient.
Leaning back over her I wrap my arm under her hips and flip her over. Sitting on the naked buttocks to undo my own jeans, dropping them faster than toxic waste, I lean down to release the laces on my boots, loving the sensation of my nuts pressing up against wet succulent lips.
She's mumbling, but I'm drifting mentally, too distracted to pick up the thoughts.
With my clothing discarded I pivot, straddling the woman, digging hands into her hip bones and angling her, “Support with your knees.”
She takes orders well, getting her knees positioned so her face is in the linen and her ass is in the air.
Desire lances down the inside of my thighs, my hard-on tingling and straining, my heart pumping a little too fast when a hot shiver rams down my naked spine with imminent expectation.
Planting my knees outside her calves I ratchet my left hand in her hair, holding her down, “I'll try be gentle ... I can't promise...”
Fuck, I don't do words, I'm a man of action.
Rubbing the tip across the plump pink lips of her pussy, I lubricate my entrance, my abdomen so tight I'm ready to ordain her this second. I'm in dire need of a decent fuck, the handjob in the shower can only sustain a man's urges so far.
Sinking my hips, holding her steady with my right hand digging into her hip bone, I slip deeply into a suction so hot I'm forced to halt, sweat accumulating between my shoulders, every vein in my body tensing to fire all pistons.
Fuck it.
Shoving right in, the hot sexsyrup, her overwhelming smell, the pressure of such smooth heat wipes my head clean of thought and I ram, living on sensation, the soft swell, the tight nipple, the lascivious gasps, the silken madness of skin on skin, skin in skin, the roar bellows, vibrating my aching need, shooting it deeper than the galactic center, but it's merely a hiccup on the journey.
Pressing over, covering her, resting my head next to hers, I jackhammer, the wetness accumulating, spilling, the passage becoming viscous, more slippery than oil, and all I care to savor is the magnificent throb burning my dick as if I buried it inside the sun's velvet mouth, the tropical lick and slide so subliminally delicate, it unleashes the savage.
It's sweeter than promises and smoother than lies. It's ambrosia for the soul. Feels so fucknifiscent, Odin, oh fucki
ng hellhounds I could do this all day every day. Muscles clamp my sensitive head in such a tight squeeze my willpower fails on impact, the sheath so slick and hot, oozing juice down my balls, it rattles my muscles in an everlasting moan of ecstasy. So deep, so warm, so fucking perfect.
Sliding away, the cool air just drives me back in again, needing to ride this body until her blood perfumes my sanctuary.
Her ass fits inside my hips like the perfect saddle, her babymoans enough to stoke the raging furnace, tilting my wedged dick in a painful salute deep inside the cradle of love. Her voice holds resonance, tickling my balls as perfectly as if her mouth is under them and her tongue is sliding sensational sin around their tightening anguish.
My mind shimmers into the backseat when she clenches, moving with me, plunging her tourniquet up the shaft and back down to slap loudly on my pelvic bone. She shunts hard, making sweet music with incoherent utterings, she clearly likes it hard and I'm harder than granite tonight. Let's play scream for daddy.
*
Deliah:
Launched backwards, my legs are locked wide and my breast is squeezed to such a narrow hill only my nipple peeks out the tip of his clenched hand, and his hot tongue flicks over it before teeth graze in the euphoric cocktail of pleasure and pain.
His other hand is agitating my nub, the fingers attached sliding into me while he frenzies my clit, glissading his thick fingers, sucking my nipples.
Jesus!
Arching into his mouth to alleviate the pain, his possessed hand piques my wave, slumping me in fatigued climax.
A grunt punctuates, my knee is instantly next to my ear, joined immediately with its twin, and his sleek penis propels inside me again, pouring libations of unparalleled friction deep in, hard out, deep in, my body so tight I feel every centimeter of his lazy thrusts, my legs supported by a flexing chest and roped arms.
Staring into his eyes, they're fiery and evil, beautifully wicked, his trance so complete he doesn't see me at all. He tenses, his spine stiffening when he bellows in my face, rupturing the skin a little more with his umpteenth orgasm.
