Chapter 26
Avery
I’m not just pregnant, I’m pregnant with triplets.
And apparently Sigurd is holding a feast in honor of that and restoring the communication system on the ship. I’m just trying to keep my head on straight. I went from pregnant to holy shit there are three babies inside me really fast.
Not that I would do it while pregnant, but I could like nothing more than a big glass of alcohol and a French vanilla vape.
That might take the edge off. A feast certainly won’t.
I’m still craving meat, but I’m not sure how much I can actually eat.
Cavegirl me would have been appalled that I finally have vegetables and prefer a big, juicy, bleeding steak.
Every time I eat one, I’m reminded that my baby, now babies, are wolves. The male ones, at least. It’s possible I could have three girls who won’t have Fenrir’s Mark, but I don’t think my future princesses would be craving meat. They’d be craving cupcakes like respectable royalty.
“So, for this feast, we’re just going to eat a lot of food?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Eating, dancing, it’s a party,” Erik smirks. “Though I do hope Sigurd knows there will be no Celebration Spanking for this one.”
“Celebration Spanking?” My eyebrows shoot up.
“Yes, it’s a tradition based on a legend,” Ivar says. “Possibly a true one.”
Ivar tells me all about the legend of Fenrir and his giantess bride. She was an outsider who wasn’t accustomed to their ways. Apparently, she was disciplined so often it became a legend. A legend that’s celebrated by a woman getting her ass spanked red every time they have a feast.
“And they… volunteer for it?” I scoff, shaking my head. “No, thank you. Especially not while I’m pregnant.”
“No, definitely not,” Ivar murmurs, laughing to himself. “And once we’re wed, nobody spanks the queen but the king… well, and his brothers, I suppose. That’s never done in public.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” I shudder, but I can’t help imagining it. If I were allowed to volunteer, the pregnancy hormones might put me over a knee. “What other… traditions are there for these feasts? Or do I even want to know?”
“There’s the Honey and Mead Celebration,” Erik says. “You’ll probably like that one. If Ivar’s mead is ready, we’ll pour it on you and I’m sure you can guess where we’re getting the honey from.”
“Oh, gosh,” I say, feeling a twinge of arousal, and my face turns red.
“I think I can crack a barrel for that kind of celebration,” Ivar winks. “It’s not fully aged, but it’s drinkable.”
“There will be no Running of the Wolves tonight,” Erik says. “As much as I’d like to, we need to stay close.”
“Agreed,” Ivar says. “And there’s no need for the Fertility Offering.”
“Definitely not,” Erik says, glancing at my belly.
“I can’t get more pregnant than I already am,” I say, shuddering again.
“And a Wild Hunt isn’t needed,” Erik says, tapping his chin. “Although we could play the version where we chase the pretty girl around.”
“I won’t be running anywhere,” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Even better,” Ivar says. “Cause when we catch you, we get to do whatever we want to you. That’s the rule.”
“I think… no, skip that one. Maybe when I’m not pregnant, though,” I say, feeling more arousal and intrigued by the idea.
“There’s more, but we’ll keep this one rather mild,” Erik says. “Plenty we can’t do, but we’ll honor the gods like we should.”
Apparently, they’re going to cover me in mead and drink from me. They really, really seem to love being between my legs, and I can’t turn it down. I’m practically addicted to their tongues like I’m addicted to their ridged cocks. And I’m already aroused.
At least I won’t get spanked. My ass being safe from that is sometimes the best and worst part of being pregnant. I don’t think it would actually be harmful, but I have extremely overprotective mates. If I get up to go to the bathroom right now, I’ll have a personal escort.
It takes some time to prepare the feast, but my stomach is rumbling before everything is ready. I’m hungrier than I realized, especially for all the meat that’s been cooked. I can’t feast on it, but I can definitely eat something.
Ivar and Erik take turns sitting with me and helping Sigurd with the feast. Everyone is over the moon over reestablishing communicating with Midgard. Over the solar system over the fact I’m carrying triplets.
“Alright, mate,” Ivar says, walking over and offering me a hand. “It’s time to feast.”
“I’m hungry now,” I laugh, taking his hand and letting him help me up.
Ivar escorts me to the dinner table. Erik pulls out my chair. Sigurd is already seated, piling food on his plate.
It truly is a feast. There’s bacon, sausage, steaks, burgers, and so many vegetables I’m a little worried we won’t have enough to make it through the winter. But this is how they celebrate. The gold hasn’t run out, and we can always get more if we have to.
“What would you like first, Avery?” Erik asks, a pronged fork hovering over the meat.
“Steak,” I say, gesturing to the bloodiest looking cut of meat. “Yep, that’s the one the babies want.”
“Feed our wolves well,” Ivar chuckles.
They say prayers before we start eating. Thor. Odin. Fenrir. Freya. Those are the main ones, but there are so many I can’t keep track of them all as they continue their thanks. I have my eyes closed so long it takes me several blinks to get my vision to focus when the prayer is finally over.
“I’m glad you don’t have to pray to them before every meal,” I say. “That takes a while.”
“Why we generally only do it when we’re honoring them with a feast,” Erik smirks. “We haven’t done that nearly enough since the plague. Now, we have a damn good reason to.”
“Yes,” Ivar says, sipping his ale. “Now, let’s feast before the meat gets cold.”
I reach for my knife, but I don’t get a chance to cut my steak because Erik does it for me.
I’m still getting used to being waited on like this.
Considering that they kidnapped me, they treat their women quite well.
Or they used to. Now I’m the only one, and there’s three of them to dote on me and the babies I’m carrying.
It’s overwhelming sometimes, but I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.
I’m even more grateful that I’ll have their help after the babies are born.
Three babies that will cry. Have needs. Turn into little people I’m expected to mold into…
something. Respectable Vikings? Fierce wolves?
A future king? Warrior women? That part is definitely overwhelming.
“There you go, mate. No danger of choking,” Erik says, sliding my plate over to me.
“Says the guy who makes me choke on his dick?” I laugh, nudging him.
“That’s usually me,” Sigurd growls. “When I let you.”
“Rarely,” I say. “You usually want something else too much.”
“What I’m having for dessert,” Sigurd rumbles.
“What we’re all having for dessert,” Ivar clarifies.
Erik doesn’t say anything. He just puts a hand on my leg and squeezes, then trails his way almost to the apex of my thigh before pulling away.
“You better be planning on eating a lot of food if I’m going to be on the table as dessert,” I say, nibbling my bottom lip before taking a bite of my steak.
“We will, don’t worry about that,” Sigurd says. “But we expect you to help.”
“I’ll eat as much as I can without upsetting the passengers,” I say, eating more steak. “Right now, they’re very happy with the steak and one of them really wants to try the sausage.”
“Don’t make them wait,” Ivar says, nudging the biggest sausage onto my plate. “It’s really good.”
“I’m going to try it,” I say. “But this steak is too good. Great job by the way, Sigurd. I wasn’t sure what to expect when you said you were preparing a feast.”
“I would have let one of them do it if I didn’t know what I was doing,” Sigurd grumps. “A burnt steak at a feast is blasphemy.”
“Glad I haven’t made that mistake,” I tease. “My ass might never recover.”
“It’s safe during this feast.” Sigurd makes eye contact with me and flashes a half-smile. “Next one, you might not be so lucky.”
“Yeah, I heard all about how you… celebrate that,” I laugh, looking down at my plate.
There was a time when this much blood would have made me sick to my stomach. Now I want to soak it in bread. I fight the urge because there’s still sausage and chicken and so much more. I at least owe most of it a bite, even if someone else has to finish it.
My eyes are bigger than my stomach, because even after trying everything, I feel pretty bloated. The babies seem happy. I’ve had enough food to put them in a coma. Me too, if I didn’t know what they have planned for dessert. I’m already wet with arousal, even though I’m stuffed.
“A fine feast, Sigurd. The gods will be pleased,” Ivar says, leaning back.
“Maybe they’ll bless us by helping us repair the ship,” Erik chuckles. “Or at least help me find the materials I need.”
“We have what we need for now,” Sigurd says. “I’m okay if we’re here for a while longer. We need to make sure our mate is safe and comfortable before we take her back to Midgard.”
“Yeah, with triplets, it might not be wise to travel,” Erik admits with a sigh. “Is everyone in agreement with that? We wait?”
I look down at my plate. I’m quite happy here, relatively speaking.
I miss a lot from Earth, but I don’t know that any of it will be on Midgard, either.
We’re safe. We have everything that we could ask for, except a few things I shouldn’t have anyway.
I do miss Netflix, though. Leave it to Beaver’s Mom and I Hate Lucy reruns really aren’t cutting it.
“I’m fine with it,” I say. “As long as we get to the hospital in time. That’s my biggest fear. I don’t think I can give birth to one baby at home, much less three.”
“We’ll get you there on time. Nothing to worry about,” Ivar murmurs. “I’m okay with staying, especially since we know she’s carrying three.”
“My vote is to stay,” Sigurd puts in. “Make sure things are safe before we leave. There’s no reason to take a risk. We don’t know what we’ll run into between here and Midgard.”
“We’ll have to take that risk eventually, but I’d prefer not to do it until the trip is comfortable for our mate,” Erik says. “Sounds like we’re in agreement. We’ll stay here until the babies are born, regardless. I don’t think I’ll have the hyperdrive operational by then anyway.”
“Then in that case,” Sigurd says, standing up and gathering some plates. “I think it’s time for dessert.”
“The best Honey and Mead Celebration we’ll ever have,” Erik smirks, joining his brother in clearing the table.
“I’ll get the mead,” Ivar says as he stands.
I’m still feeling bloated, but I’m tingling with arousal. Already imagining what it will be like to be on this table, spread-eagled, with the three of them taking turns. Drinking from me, as they like to call it. I shiver with anticipation while watching them clear the table.
Once the dishes have been removed, Erik and Sigurd help me on the table. They’re extremely gentle. Something tells me Sigurd would just slam me down and start eating my pussy if I wasn’t pregnant. Erik would be gentler, just like he’s being now, supporting my neck as he eases me onto a pillow.
“How does that feel? Are you comfortable?” Erik asks.
“Table doesn’t feel great on my back, but I don’t think I’m going to care once you guys get started,” I say, sucking on my bottom lip. “Who gets to go first?”
“Sigurd prepared the feast, so he’ll be first,” Erik says.
“As is our custom,” Ivar adds, pouring mead and placing the mugs on the table near my thigh.
“Makes all the time I spent in the kitchen worth it,” Sigurd grins, rubbing his hands together as he takes a seat, his face so close to my folds I can feel his breath.
Sigurd leans in and starts licking immediately, the fast and furious strokes on my clit forcing me to grab the table because of how good it feels. He brings me close to an orgasm before his tongue slithers to my entrance. He laps at it for a moment, then reaches for the mead.
“Today we give thanks for the honey that provides us this mead,” Sigurd intones. “And the sweet honey I can’t get enough of.”
Sigurd tilts the mug and pours mead on my stomach.
I tense up immediately, but at least it’s not cold.
After the shock wears off, it’s not too bad, and the warmth runs in every direction.
Sigurd is only concerned about the stream running between my thighs.
He drinks from it while grinding his tongue against my entrance.
“I’m grateful to whichever god made this a legend,” I moan, arching my back. The table no longer bothers me. “Don’t stop.”
“If they found their mates, I understand,” Ivar says, reaching over and playing with one of my breasts.
“It’s something worth celebrating every single day,” Erik agrees, his hand trailing down my chest until he’s caressing my other nipple.
“This certainly is.” Sigurd’s voice rumbles through me, then his tongue pushes into my pussy.
His long, thick tongue slithers into me until I’m writhing on it. I’m going to come on this table so many times I won’t care that I’m sticky from having mead poured all over me. I already know that before Ivar and Erik douse my breasts in it and start sucking on my nipples.
We may not be able to honor all the traditions they usually do when they have a feast.
But I’m definitely going to enjoy this one.