Page 69 of Last Thrall of Asgard

Yes, so many options for how to fuck or be fucked, and I knew we hadn’t even come close to discovering them all.

Musk wafted up around us when Oli uncoupled our cocks. I loved that scent. Oli’s smell always masked my own, earthy and rich and a little bit sweet. I loved it. I loved being surrounded by it.

I flopped onto my back beside Oli, with our heads pointed toward the foot of the bed. Our bedchamber was similar to the one in Jotunheim where we’d first fucked, but this one had windows and a door.

I was sticky. Filthy. But in our home, our bed, I truly loved it.

Oli tried to sit up to leave the bed and get clean.

I smacked a hand to his chest to knock him down again. “No need to go anywhere yet.”

“The sun grows high. We have crops to tend to. Animals. Responsibilities. Remember that word?”

I smacked Oli’s chest again. “I can get all that done with a wave of my hand.”

“Magic is cheating.”

“You don’t say that when I use it in bed.”

“Yes, I do. I just allow it.” Oli seized me by the back of my neck to steal a sloppy morning kiss.

I wound my tail around one of Oli’s wrists and lurched it back to the headboard to tie it there.

“Loki…”

“Guess you have no choice now.” I climbed on top of him.

“We have chores.”

“Says the dutiful farm boy.” I flicked my tongue over his lips, forked for a moment like a snake’s.

I’d lied of course when I said I didn’t know what duties Oli had performed as a thrall. I’d been watching him for quite a while by then, but I’d still enjoyed hearing him tell it.

How surprising though that he actually liked tending to animals other than just horses and doing a little farmwork. He still took time for artistry, a little sewing, a little embroidery, wood carving. He even molded, baked, and painted wedding goblets for us, with runes around their outer rims and the winding of my—or rather,our—little green snake.

Speaking of.

“Good morning, Jorm,” Oli said, no longer startled to feel him slithering around his wrist, a thinner presence than my tail. Jörmungandr nipped at my conjured flesh, rescuing Oli from its bonds with a hiss.

“Traitor,” I scoffed. He was the Midgard Serpent still, but he’d been reborn small and preferred it that way.

“Good boy, Jorm,” Oli said. Once his arm was free, he pulled it down, bringing Jorm close enough to kiss the top of his head. Jorm hissed again with a happy squirm.

“I think we’ve earned a little cheating now and again,” I pouted, sitting upright on Oli’s hips. “Like with cleanup!” I snapped my fingers, and we were indeed clean. From Oli's appreciative look, I knew he didn't mind as much as he claimed.

“We can dirty ourselves again later,” Oli said, grasping my hand to topple me forward again. “Eventually, I want a soak in the hot spring with you tonight too.”

“That can be arranged.”

I claimed another kiss, sloppy and slow like before. Then deeper, more fervent, and grinded my hips down.

Jorm hissed in protest, slithering from Oli’s wrist to mine where, for a moment, he was wound around us both, like the wedding cords that had bound us in marriage.

Several thuds sounded at the door, along with a plaintive whine.

We chuckled.

“How does he keep getting out at night?” Oli asked.

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