Page 17 of Last Thrall of Asgard

“You live among the Aesir now,” I said. “Or… no. Yes! But you watch over Alfheim, the land of the elves.”

“Right you are.” Freyr let his hands drop, although one did find the hilt of the floating sword, as just a familiar, casual position or one of warning, I wasn’t certain. “My father gifted me rulership of Alfheim when I was young. They needed a leader, and I embodied all the things most revered by the elves. Beauty. Benevolence. Fertility.” He winked.

The gods were supposedly broken, in need of something, and I was to give it. Heimdall had sought a certain retribution for creating our class system. I was a spark of hope for him.

In what ways was Freyr broken, who clearly hadn’t expected me the way Heimdall had?

“I do believe I might have some elven lineage from my mother’s side.” Freyr lifted one side of his hair to show that his ears bore a slight point, like was said in stories of the light elves, that they were lithe and graceful with pointed ears and delicate chins. The rest of Freyr was quite manly in contrast but still fair. “Of course, our elders can be quite tight-lipped about who fucked whom whenever asked, so who’s to say.”

He took another step toward me, and I’d swear his sword-hilt vibrated, eager to be unsheathed again.

“But home is home, and that old Aesir-Vanir war pales compared to more… recent battles. I merely came here for a stroll to clear my head. Now it’s back to Alfheim.” Freyr reached me, and then stepped around me to head down the path.

“Wait! You can’t leave me here!”

“I didn’t bring you here.” He peered over his shoulder.

“Loki did.”

“Ah.” A bit of a smile touched Freyr’s lips. “And why did he do that? To seek out me?”

“Yes. To help you forget your troubles after Ragnarök by… bedding you.”

Freyr’s laughter was so much louder at that, I couldn’tnottake offence, though I was more offended when he turned fully, looked me up and down, and said, “You can’t handle me.”

“Excuseme?”

He stalked back toward me with a different strut to his stride. It was a strut to be sure, with a wider-legged stance and an abundance of pride that made my gut blossom with heat. “What do the mortal stories say of me, hm? God offertility? Virility?” He cocked his hip in such a way, one hand still fingering his sword hilt, that my eyes were drawn to exactly where I imagined he wanted me to look.

The fabric of his tunic hung over his groin, and yet, somehow, even through that, and through his trousers, it seemed possibleto make out the line of the large cock straining against what covered it.

How could I forget? Freyr was the god of fertility because his stories went out of their way to recount how he was also the most well-endowed.

After sinking between the ivory cheeks of Heimdall, I was curious how being filled by a god might feel. Freyr meant to scare me off with his taunting, or was it to further tempt me and gauge how truly eager I was to feel his stretch?

“I am up for the task.” I held firm, raising my eyes to his. “Try me.”

“And you believe this will… what? Ease my mind of the aftermath of death and rebirth?”

“Loki seems to think so.”

“Then he must think very highly of you.” Freyr scanned his eyes up and down me again.

Did he? Had this even been Loki’s idea, or Heimdall’s after watching me first? Maybe Loki simply trusted the watchman and didn’t believe in me himself.

Why did that thought turn the heat in my gut to an aching twist?

“You are handsome,” Freyr said. “Well formed. Very inviting. But I have sprung tears to the eyes of men and women alike who thought they could take me and eventually cried for mercy. I have a stipulation now for anyone I bed. You will have to agree to it and follow my lead from then on. Will you?”

“May I ask the stipulation first?”

On his sword belt were various pouches, as well as a water skin. Freyr reached into one such pouch and pulled out a… I had no idea what.

It almost looked like a sword handle itself, starting narrow, becoming more bulbous, and tapering again to where it finally ended at a seeming hilt that could have connected to a blade.Only it wasn’t made of metal, and it had no blade to attach to. It had a matte texture in the same verdant green as Freyr’s eyes.

“A handy elven device.” He grinned. “Enchanted. Once inserted, it enlarges over time to gauge how much stretch my would-be partners can handle. It grows and grows until it reaches an approximation of my size. It is a gradual growth, so you will have ample time to beg for reprieve. If you make it to the end, you can have the real thing. If you cannot handle it, simply say so, and I will remove it and send you back to Loki.”

The new warmth that spread through me was all anticipation. I’d had objects other than a finger or prick in me before, but never something inanimate that could grow on its own. It was both unnerving and encouraging.

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