Page 9 of Pregnant With Their Babes

A spell. Itmustbe a spell.

Dagr shook his head, searching around them for magic in the air. He could sense it, but solely centered on Llyr. It emanated from within the man… and Dagr suspected it might come from a pendant around Llyr’s neck—but he didn’t sense the tendrils anywhere else. If they were affected by a spell, he’d be aware of it wrapping them around him.

There were none.

“Go back to your duties,” Oz growled at the crew. “We’ll find our guest somewhere to rest from his ordeal.”

Dagr knew full well the crew’s curiosity would win out. When the men remained at first—Dagr glared at them and snarled. Begrudgingly, the men dispersed… though, their eyes kept being drawn back. A need to shield their mysterious stranger burned in his chest. Llyr struggled to walk, so Dagr moved in close on one side, as did Oz on the other. Their new guest’s steps strengthened with each he took, it seemed. They led him into Oz’s large cabin, their pace unhurried. Waning sunlight poured in through the cabin’s large windows as they entered, but that illumination was fading fast.

A delighted gasp came from Llyr. “Whatis this place?”

“My quarters,” Oz answered.

“Quarters?” Llyr spun to give Oz a charmed smile, and in that moment Dagr felt a minute pang of jealousy. “What are quarters?”

“My office. And the place I sleep,” Oz stated.

“It smells of you.” Llyr’s eyes seemed to gleam with purpose. He turned and opened a small box on Oz’s desk. He lifted out a fountain pen and stared at it, a perplexed expression on his face. “These areyourbelongings?”

“Yes.” Oz nodded before giving a quick, perplexed glimpse to Dagr.

Dagr watched as their guest strode unsteadily toward the bookcase. He excitedly investigated all of Oz’s books, trinkets, and possessions, his steps awkward and weak—like that of a child. His desire to explore seemed to supplant his fatigued body’s need for rest. Llyr opened a few books and scanned the pages before moving on to lift the lid on a small chest. The man acted strangely, curious about the most mundane of items.

Oz gave Dagr another confused expression and opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him. It opened a crack, and both of their cabin boys stood at the doorway.

“I brought your clothes and firearms,” one of them said.

Dagr winced, stunned he’d left his weapon on the deck upon his return from the water. It wasn’t like him. Snatching the bundle from the boy’s arms, he muttered a thanks under his breath.

The other boy hefted a lantern aloft. “I came ta light yer lanterns, Cap’n.”

“Go ahead… and be quick about it,” Oz instructed.

Dagr scowled, not fond of the intrusion. All the boys wished for was a chance to peek at their strange, new guest. An irrational urge took hold of him— to snatch the flame and light the lanterns himself… simply to force the boys out faster. Dagr ignored the urge, clenching his fists.

As his comrade stood watching at the door, the boy with the light stalked toward one of the three lanterns in the room. He eyed Llyr keenly as he moved. Llyr observed the cabin boy with equal diligence, his eyes wide as he watched the boy light the first flame. After, he tagged close behind, delightedly observing as it was repeated two more times—all with the same rapt fascination as the light grew brighter.

The boys ducked out of the cabin, strange looks on their faces. The same strange look appeared on Oz’s face… and likely his own.

“Ugh,” Llyr said, his voice still scratchy. As soon as the door shut behind the boys, he shrugged out of the blanket, letting it puddle around his feet—and leaving himself completely bare. “That thing prickles…”

Their new guest seemed to have no problem with nudity. Dagr strived to avert his gaze, but he struggled not to take in all that gorgeous, soft-looking flesh. There no flaw he could see marring Llyr’s porcelain skin. His body was… perfection.

A marble statue made flesh.

Well… there was something unique to the man. Not exactly a flaw, as such. His stare lingered over the odd markings on his arm. He’d never seen tattoos quite the like. They were almost tribal in appearance, yet not like those he’d seen elsewhere.

And the shell mark… it appeared almost too perfect not to be a tattoo, yet it seemed natural in appearance. The skin was darker pink there, as if it had been burnt into his flesh. Dagr hungered to get a better look… with the man under him in the bed not too far away.

A swell of lust licked up his spine, sending little tendrils of need curling through every appendage. The scent of something—he paused to inhale—he’d smelled it before, he was almost sure of it. But Dagr was powerless to place what or where or when. All he recognized was it tickled at his nose, making his fingers twitch and his cock jerk.

He closed his eyes, fighting the building desire.

Yet he couldn’t keep them closed long. Not when there was so much beauty to inspect. His gaze traveled over the tattoos again, searching for some kind of meaning—before trailing lower. The soft swell of the man’s ass made him want to reach out and caress it. Llyr’s cock—hispartially erect cock—did the same. Dagr licked his lips, hungry.

So very, very hungry.

His own cock was ramrod hard against his leg under his wet breeches. It ached painfully, screaming for release, but he refused to toss a complete stranger—a drowning victim, no less—to the bed. No matter how much his lusts demanded he do just that.

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