Page 22 of Last Thrall of Asgard

The sadness in Freyr returned, as he once again petted my cheek. “What a consort you would be if I could love you.”

The object grew in meagain, so much so that no sound left me, barely a squeak. Surely, this was the end, but Freyrcomforted me with more pets of my cheek, not voicing any sign that we were finished.

I had to steer my thoughts elsewhere if I was to last.

“M-my lord… haveyouever loved?”

“I thought you knew that story.”

“Yes. You were enamored with something you thought perfect. Something beautiful. But is adoration love? Is lust and wanting love, when that love is not returned?” Like how I knew Thorsten could never love me. “Or can one find connection, friendship, kindship first, and there allow love to blossom?”

Freyr set my hand aside, shifting closer between my legs. “You ask for yourself?” He traced my raw lips with the prerelease left behind by his cock.

I tongued his fingertips. “I ask for you. And one who might already love you.”

Freyr’s eyes darted away, and I knew then that he was aware of Ravnur’s affections but hesitated to return them. Why? They could be together. There was no master and thrall between them, even if Freyr was Ravnur’s king.

The object grew in me once more, and as all sense of anything but pressure and pleasure fell away, I let the sensations take me—and watched a bird land upon the railing of the stern. It cocked its head, as if taking in the wideness of my bared hole.

“There we are,” Freyr said. “Are you ready for the real me, Oli?”

Thank the gods. “Yes,” I croaked.

Freyr reached down and slowly pulled out the object inside me.

“Ohhh…fuck.”

How agape I must be now.

Freyr pressed his tip to me and slid inside as slowly as he had pulled out what stretched me. He was still somehow larger, perhaps only because he pulsed with arousal nothing inanimatecould mimic, but it made my eyes and mouth water in equal measure, and I surrendered to the expanse.

The bird flew away, but I only barely noticed the flapping of its wings. As Freyr began to fuck me in earnest, the sheer mass of him made it impossible to do anything but take it. He aided my legs in wrapping up around him so he might sink inside me deeper, and I felt as though I would be stretched this wide forever once he finished.

That thought pushed me past the peak of any other feeling, and I came with a shudder so deep, it rattled my bones—without Freyr once having touched my cock since the waterfall.

He too seemed lost in sensation, his expression blissful and eyes closed, or perhaps his mind was elsewhere, wishing the body he penetrated belonged to someone else.

The over-sensation of him continuing to fuck me made me feel hot and desperate for the mercy I hadn’t pleaded to be granted before. Then, just when I was about to beg, he returned to me.

“Well done indeed, Oli,” Freyr whispered with a final, deeper thrust and filled me with his seed.

I couldn’t say if I was aware of my body in the immediate minutes afterward. I knew when Freyr pulled out, and his release followed in a great gush upon the fabrics and furs. I knew when he gently laid down my quaking legs to rest. But how many minutes went by before I was cognizant enough to turn my head and see him laid out beside me?

“Tell me,” Freyr asked, “haveyouever loved, Oli?”

As fuzzy as my mind was, that answer was easy too. “I thought so once, but I am wiser now. I have seen the real thing between others. That is how I know I have never truly felt it. Has Ravnur ever submitted to your stipulation?”

“He has not. But he has never asked to bed me.”

“He wishes foryouto ask.”

“You think yourself a seer now?”

“He wishes for you to ask,” I repeated, for no prophecy was needed to know that. “He would gladly agree to your test of endurance if you worry he cannot handle you. But perhaps, first, a stroll through the wood without plugging him and see what your heart thinks, damaged though it may be. You needn’t be timid with him. Ravnur will not scorn you.”

Freyr’s auburn hair was a beautiful curtain beneath him as he looked up at the clear Alfheim sky. “Have all mortals grown so wise since my last trek to Midgard?”

“Just me.”

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