Chapter Twenty #2
Freya’s hand went to her waist, where her knives would have been if she was clothed, and then paused, clenching and unclenching her fingers.
It was the same reassuring gesture Astrid had seen thousands of times across the great hall.
The one that meant you are safe. The one that meant I will take care of you.
Freya lifted Astrid’s chin with one finger. “You have to be responsible every day,” she said. “Why don’t you let me take control for once?”
“Please,” Astrid choked out.
Freya leaned in until her lips were practically touching Astrid’s ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you know ‘please’ is my favorite word?”
Astrid flushed down to her toes. The room was warm with the fire blazing in the hearth; it was warmer still with Freya leaning over her, her breasts grazing Astrid’s skin.
Freya shifted her head, and then they were kissing—a slow, building kiss that grew deeper as Freya pushed Astrid back, back, back and joined her on the bed.
Astrid’s hands found Freya’s hips, and Freya’s hands found Astrid’s horns.
Astrid loved that Freya’s first instinct was to go for the part of Astrid that was different, fully accepting who she was down to the base of her.
There was nothing quite like Freya’s care.
Freya pushed Astrid down into the sheets by her shoulders and climbed on top of her.
With Freya above her, Astrid was dizzy with the anticipation and the realization of a dream she’d had for years coming to fruition.
She felt the plane of Freya’s back, the bumps of her spine, and then Freya’s mouth was on Astrid’s neck, her collarbone, her chest.
“What do you like?” Freya breathed against Astrid’s skin.
“This,” Astrid said, panting. “I like this.”
Freya smiled, dazzling, and took Astrid’s nipple into her mouth.
Freya’s touch was nothing short of magic.
Her mouth, her hands, her gentle repositioning of Astrid—all of it was perfect, an act she must have done many times to many people.
A knot of jealousy formed in Astrid’s stomach at the thought that, all these years, Freya had found her pleasure elsewhere when she could have found it with her.
If only Astrid had been bolder, had said something sooner or opened the door for them. She’d been cold and cut off from everything and everyone. She could only imagine how that had looked to Freya.
Freya slipped lower, kissed Astrid’s navel, then lower still, leaving a string of kisses along Astrid’s hip.
She nudged one of Astrid’s legs up so her knee was facing the ceiling and then did the same with the other.
Astrid found herself holding her breath, wanting to experience every little detail in full.
She wanted to savor it all. She wanted this memory branded onto her brain forever.
“More?” Freya asked. Astrid propped herself on her elbows to look down at her. Freya had a hand wrapped around each of Astrid’s thighs, holding her open. The warmth of her mouth caressed Astrid’s skin.
“Please,” Astrid said, and Freya grinned.
She lowered her face until all Astrid could see of her was the top of her head, her shiny black hair reflecting the light of the fire, and the profile of her nose. And then her tongue touched Astrid, and Astrid bucked.
Freya held her in place, surprisingly strong, as she tasted Astrid with slow, languorous strokes of her tongue.
Pressure built in Astrid’s body, primed for release, and Freya’s tongue quickened, more desperate, at a tantalizing pace.
Astrid’s hands found Freya’s hair, and Freya moaned against Astrid, and the vibrations of her throat nearly took Astrid over the edge, nearly made her—
The tense hold slipped from one of Astrid’s thighs.
Her leg fell to the side—she’d been doing nothing herself to hold it up—and then Freya’s fingers were teasing her, poised under her skilled tongue.
Astrid licked her lips then licked them again.
Her shaking hands clutched at the sheets so hard she thought the fabric might rip.
Freya’s fingers filled her, arching, and Astrid let out a sound more animal than anything—something primal she hadn’t known she had in her, something between a wail and a moan, a hiss, and her legs shook in Freya’s grip, and Freya—ever-perfect Freya, ever-wonderful Freya—held Astrid down with her one hand, pinning her there with mouth and fingers and sheer force of will as Astrid burst against her face.
“Stars, Freya,” Astrid said when it was over. Her voice was hoarse.
Freya lifted her face from Astrid’s cunt and smiled. Her chin was shiny with the labors of her love. Astrid’s heart surged at the sight of her.
“You’re so beautiful from down here,” Freya said. “I wish you could see.”
Tears sprang to Astrid’s eyes. She wouldn’t trade this for anything. If she died now, if the queendom burned, none of it would matter. Being with Freya was worth every second.
“I am guessing,” Astrid said, wrenching her mind from the inevitability of the future, “that you know about our tongues.”
Freya’s brows shot up surprise. “Yes.”
“Would you like to try?”
“What is it like?” Freya asked, resting her head against Astrid’s inner thigh. Her hair tickled Astrid’s skin. “I don’t always enjoy being on the receiving end of penetration.”
“It’s gentler than you might think,” Astrid said. But there was part of her that wondered if she had enough control to give Freya what she wanted. She truly was out of practice.
“You’re nervous,” Freya pointed out.
“Sorry,” Astrid said instinctively.
Freya rolled to Astrid’s side. “Did you want to try?”
“I do want to,” said Astrid. She reached down to cup Freya’s face in her hand. Freya closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss the palm of her hand.
“Are you scared because of how long it’s been for you?” Freya asked.
The question shot through Astrid like an arrow. Stars, it was embarrassing to open up to people.
Freya sidled up close to Astrid’s face and leaned in to kiss her. “You forgot something important.”
“What is that?” Astrid asked.
Mischievous and radiant, Freya smiled. “I am in control tonight.”
Freya repositioned herself, swinging one leg over Astrid’s other side so she was straddling her.
Astrid was surprised by two things: the first, that she knew she was ready to try this, that she would not embarrass herself; and the second, that she felt comfortable doing it, even if she failed. Freya would not judge her.
There would be room for improvement later.
Freya inched herself higher over Astrid, passing her breasts, her neck. Her cunt hovered over Astrid, and unbidden, Astrid licked her lips.
Freya’s hair covered her eyes. From below, she was even more beautiful. Muscular save for the soft curves of her belly and her breasts. Her collarbones shifted as she eased herself directly over Astrid’s face and lowered.
Astrid’s tongue unfurled. Tentatively, she pressed the tip to Freya’s inner thigh, just off-center.
Freya shuddered. She brought her hand to the crest of her lips and parted them. She was wet—gleaming.
Astrid wanted so badly to taste her.
Astrid’s tongue found Freya’s clit and swirled. Controlled, clockwise. A high-pitched noise came from Freya’s throat as she settled onto Astrid’s mouth, helping Astrid move, guiding her to Freya’s pleasure.
She tasted like everything Astrid had ever wanted in her life. If Astrid could stay here forever, she would.
“More,” Freya said.
Astrid unfurled more of the length of her tongue. How much could Freya take? Human tongues were so small, though Freya had had no problem pleasuring Astrid with hers. Astrid filled Freya, and Freya bobbed, up and down, and released little moans with each movement.
Astrid grabbed Freya’s waist to anchor her, and Freya gently knocked Astrid’s hand away. Freya’s fingers wound around Astrid’s horns, firm but not painful, and she thrust at Astrid’s face.
“More,” Freya grunted.
Astrid filled her more, following her quick movements. A sheen of sweat glistened on Freya’s toned stomach, drops beading. Astrid had to close her eyes. The sight of Freya like this was too much—Astrid thought her heart might explode.
Freya’s thrusts quickened. “More,” she said, and then, “More,” and then Astrid had reached the full length of her tongue, feeling Freya’s soft insides all around, pulsing with their heartbeats. Freya’s grip on Astrid’s horns tightened; her muscles clenched; her breathing came faster and faster.
All at once, Freya’s full body quaked, and Astrid’s eyes flew open, wanting to see her like this. Head thrown back, her arms straining to hold on. Astrid plunged fully inside of her and out and then again. Freya shrieked, a sound Astrid had never heard before but very badly wanted to hear again.
And then Freya slumped down. Astrid curled her tongue back in on itself, back into her mouth. Freya’s cunt was pink and engorged, used and drained.
“Did I hurt you?” Astrid said, suddenly worried.
Freya wiped her sweaty hair out of her eyes. “I told you,” she said, “that I have a high pain tolerance.”
Astrid swallowed. The tantalizing taste of Freya lingered on her tongue. She could have done it again, many times, but she was scared to break her.
Freya covered Astrid’s cheek in kisses, and then down under her ear, and into her hair, her horns, her forehead, her eyes. “That was lovely,” she said.
“I love you, Freya,” Astrid said. “I really do.”
Freya curled into Astrid’s side. “I love you, too,” she said.