Chapter 12 Caught Up in Magic
twelve
Caught Up in Magic
Thori
Thori woke parched and overheated, feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.
Where was he?
It was dark around him, and for a second, Thori thought he was back in his chambers in Asgard, that he had only awoken from a strange dream that had been slightly frightening and slightly arousing: strong hands holding him in place and gray eyes watching him squirm.
He was hard, feeling way too hot. Confused.
Maybe he just needed to take care of the problem and go back to sleep. Norrin wouldn’t be pleased if he soiled his sheets, because this was his bed, right? It had to be. But Thori was so hard. It almost hurt, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He wrapped his hand around his cock, momentarily overwhelmed by pleasure. Images flooded his mind of Norrin hovering above him, the curtain of his dark hair framing his face.
“Touch me,” Thori heard himself whisper to the figment of his imagination.
He’d never craved a warrior’s touch, never craved anyone this much. But he yearned for Norrin’s strong hands to soothe him, cooling down his overheated skin.
A soft moan escaped his lips. For a moment he felt like he could come like this and break the strange spell holding him trapped.
But his relief was short-lived; his pleasure slipping from his grasp. Suddenly he couldn’t keep up his strokes, wrenching his hand from his cock as if he’d been burned. Hissing, Thori curled up on his side. What was this?
Painful heat surged through his veins, but it didn’t diminish his overwhelming arousal. Thori whimpered. He grabbed his cock again, but his sloppy strokes didn’t bring any relief this time. It hurt.
Thori writhed, overwhelmed by a maelstrom of pleasure and agony. He was sweating, desperate. But he couldn’t make it stop. He couldn’t.
What was happening to him?
Curling into a tight ball, Thori pressed his eyes shut. The heat consumed him. He needed release. But it wouldn’t stop.
It wouldn’t stop.
It wouldn’t stop.
It wouldn’t stop.
“Thori?”
Heat. He was surrounded by heat. It felt like being trapped in the burning halls of Muspelheim.
But then there was a cool touch against his shoulder.
“Thori, what’s wrong?”
He forced his eyes open. Norrin’s sharp features hovered above him, there again to save him when he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, just like the day of the whipping.
Norrin was handsome. So handsome.
Thori didn’t know what to do.
“Make it stop,” he heard himself beg, reaching for soft brown hair and cool skin. “Please, make it stop.”
Norrin pressed a hand to Thori’s brow as if he wanted to gauge his temperature.
Eagerly, Thori leaned into the touch. Yes! This was better. He needed his touch.
“Are you—taking me to the ritual now?” Thori slurred.
He didn’t even care anymore. The ritual would mean Norrin putting his hands on him, touching every part of him. He needed—
“The ritual is taken care of. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Norrin’s voice washed over him, deep and calm, making him feel so much better.
“But—”
Another wave of heat ran through his body. Was Norrin going to leave him like this? Not having to perform the ritual should reassure him, but he dreaded being left in this horrible state. Why didn’t Norrin just take him?
Suddenly embarrassed, Thori tried to twist away. He could endure this. This strange heat had to be Svanhild’s doing; a seier of passion entangling him. He just needed to wait until it was over. Easy.
But Norrin clearly had other ideas. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he turned Thori around again, laying him out on his back. His defiance simply crumbled at this slight touch.
A moan slipped past Thori’s lips, and he opened his legs without thinking.
A part of him wanted to recoil, to refuse the seier keeping him trapped.
Another shameless part wanted Norrin to make his suffering stop.
He wanted his weight on top of him, his hand around his cock, wanted to be filled up and fucked until—
Gasping, Thori jerked back until he bumped against the headboard.
“You don’t hide from me, Odinsson,” Norrin growled. “Have you forgotten your promise? You said you’d serve me if I spared you the ritual.”
“Still, you let your priestess enchant me!”
Pulling a silken sheet to his chest, Thori tried to hide his arousal. Norrin recoiled as if taken aback by his words.
“What are you talking about? Svanhild doesn’t belong to my lie, mind you.”
With every inch separating them, the heat and pain increased tenfold. Thori’s face flushed, and he shook with the effort to stay where he was. All he could do was not throw himself at Norrin and beg to be fucked.
“What do you mean? Talk to me!”
If he’d had the capacity to be amused right now, Thori would’ve laughed at Norrin’s strained expression. As it was, all he could manage was a weak shake of his head, pulling his knees to his chest. What did Norrin want him to say, anyway? Surely he knew what kind of seier Svanhild had woven.
“You’re burning up. But this doesn’t make any sense. I broke Svanhild’s enchantment. You were better,” Norrin said as if talking to himself.
“The potion,” Thori choked.
“What potion? She wasn’t even supposed to—” Norrin trailed off, and understanding dawned on his face. “That bitch.”
Thori blinked sluggishly. He could see the anger radiating from Norrin, each red, pulsing wave hitting him like a blow.
He flinched, finally realizing what Svanhild had done.
The potion’s purpose was to guarantee his cooperation for the ritual.
She’d said so much herself. She’d made one hundred percent sure that he would have no choice but to hand his body over to Norrin, to be a good little conduit.
Hel, Svanhild’s ambition knew no boundaries.
She probably even thought Norrin would be grateful for her meddling. But she’d miscalculated.
“She’ll regret ignoring my orders,” Norrin said, still sounding like he was speaking to himself.
Norrin Stormtamer didn’t seem keen on fucking him.
Why?
Thori had seen the resentment in his gaze, a certain heat as well. It would be so easy for him to punish Thori for whatever reason he might have for hating him. Why shouldn’t he do it?
Norrin’s sharp gaze fixed on him.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
Thori froze, his body immobilized by conflicting instincts battling for the upper hand.
Look at me!
Stay away from me!
Touch me!
Please touch me!
Norrin was already getting rid of his shirt and boots, crawling onto the bed in nothing but his breeches. He was a vision; his powerful body adorned with tattoos and battle scars. Thori whimpered as Norrin pulled the sheet from his unresisting fingers.
“Take off your trousers.”
“What?”
“You said it yourself. Svanhild enchanted you so you would be ready for the ritual. Your body craves the touch. It’s going to be torture if you try to handle this alone.”
“But—”
“No arguing now. I do not torture my thralls. I will make this bearable for you.”
Thori wanted to fight back. He really wanted to. His resistance crumbled in the face of Norrin’s restored decisiveness as surely as frost melts in the first warmth of spring. Closing his eyes in defeat, Thori brushed off his pants.
Before he could panic about his state of undress and his undignified arousal, Norrin’s hands were on his shoulders. Calming. Grounding.
“Come here,” Norrin rumbled, making himself comfortable against the headboard next to him. “Sit between my legs, your back against my chest.”
Thori scrambled to obey. This way, at least, he didn’t have to look at Norrin.
And the mere thought of being allowed to feel warm skin against his was intoxicating.
Thori knew he ought to resist, but the strange mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelmed his refusal.
Gracelessly, he sank into Norrin’s embrace.
“There you go. This is better, right?”
Thori nodded, unable to withstand the temptation to press himself a little more firmly against Norrin’s chest and lay his head on his shoulder.
He felt Norrin heave a heavy sigh.
“It won’t stay that way for long.”
“I’m feeling much better already,” Thori hastened to assure him. “Maybe it’ll be enough if we stay like this for a moment.”
Norrin chuckled. It was a warm sound, not a hint of mockery, and it made heat rise in Thori’s groin, his cock twitching.
“As we both know, her seier is meant to get what she wants, and she plans to humiliate you along the way. This won’t just stop.”
The words had Thori bristling with sudden anger.
“Then what are we talking about?” he snarled. “Are you going to fuck me or not? Or do you want me to beg? Do you want to wait and see how much her seier can drive me wild and watch me grovel? Too bad, I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
He’d expected Norrin to get angry as well, craved it even, to be hit or pushed off the bed, but instead, Norrin’s embrace tightened, his hands running gently over Thori’s shoulders and upper arms.
“We need to talk because while I can’t give you a choice, I can offer you some sort of leverage over the situation. Tell me what your body needs, and I will help you survive her curse.”
Thori blinked. The offer was far too good to be true, more generous than a thrall or a captured enemy could hope for. But Norrin sounded sincere.
“What kind of compensation would you expect?”
“None. Remember that I already own you. And you promised to serve me.”
Indeed, he had. A fresh wave of desire made it hard to follow the conversation, but Thori bit his lip and forced his body to remain unmoving.
“What if I refuse?”
“Do you really want to do that to yourself?” Norrin asked, his voice soft and coaxing. “It would mean so much pain, possibly death even, and you’d make it easy for Svanhild to gather some of your power for herself. Let’s thwart the priestess’ plans together. Allow me to help you.”
“Allow?” Thori echoed, overcome by another wave of arousal. Only this time, he wasn’t sure if Svanhild’s seier was to blame.
What Norrin was offering was outrageous, overwhelming. Giving the reins to someone who’d take care of him, if only for a moment, if only for a brief tumble in the sheets, seemed marvelous.
“Svanhild’s seier only fans the fires of your desire, Odinsson, but your body is still yours. I can read its signs. I can give you what you need.”
Perhaps the enchantment had clouded Thori’s head, but he didn’t care. Eyes fluttering shut, he relaxed into Norrin’s embrace.
“Do it,” he rasped.
Norrin hesitated only for a heartbeat before closing his hand around Thori’s cock.
“You like it this way,” Norrin said matter-of-factly as he jerked him off in measured strokes.
Thori melted into his touch, knees falling apart to give Norrin better access, his hands fisting the sheets.
“Yes.”
Why should he lie? Norrin was seeing right through him anyway.
Norrin’s fingers were rough from shipboard work and adorned with the calluses of a swordsman. His large hand enveloped Thori’s cock just right, the feeling nothing like the delicate touch of a maiden. He stifled a moan by hiding his face against Norrin’s neck, the warrior’s beard tickling his nose.
This…
This felt so good.
Delighting the maidens was fun, but it had always felt more like a sport, another chore on the long list of things a Prince of Asgard had to excel at.
Norrin’s touch was something else entirely.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Norrin rasped.
Thori could feel the hard line of his cock pressing against his lower back, and somehow the fact that the other warrior wasn’t unaffected by touching him pleased Thori immensely.
“More. I need—”
Norrin twisted his wrist, making sparks of pleasure dance across Thori’s spine. He arched his back, fucking up into Norrin’s fist.
“Good. Take your pleasure. Just like this.”
Pressed firmly against Norrin’s chest, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, Thori moaned.
Norrin sped up his strokes, his left sliding down to cup Thori’s balls. He kept mumbling praise, just meant for Thori’s ears.
So good. So pretty. Such a good boy.
Thori let out a muffled cry and came all over Norrin’s hand. The pleasure stayed with him, a warm, comforting glow, but the pain was gone, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Reaching for a cloth, Norrin wiped his hands and the mess from Thori’s belly.
“Let me—” Thori trailed off, unsure what to offer.
They weren’t lovers, but Thori wouldn’t leave Norrin unsatisfied when the Vanr had been willing to comfort him. Clumsily, he reached for Norrin’s still hard cock, but his wrist was grabbed and pinned to his stomach.
“No.”
By all means, Thori should be relieved. But the rejection stung. He was Thori Odinsson. The golden prince of Asgard. Everyone desired him.
“You’re tired. I want you to rest.”
“But—”
“So keen to pleasure me?” Norrin chuckled. “You know what, you can suck me off in the morning if you still want to.”
Despite the mocking tone, Norrin’s words lacked true malice. He sounded almost teasing.
Good.
Because Thori wanted to please him. It would be so much easier to flee if Norrin liked him.
“Fine by me,” Thori said, making himself comfortable in Norrin’s arms. “I won’t leave my bedfellow unsatisfied, though.”
“Bedfellow?” Norrin huffed out an incredulous laugh. “I’m your master, little thrall.”
“Sleep well, master,” Thori mumbled, aiming for the same teasing tone Norrin had managed, but sounding way too sincere.
Norrin made a weird, choked-up sound Thori couldn’t quite interpret. He was too tired to solve this particular riddle anyway.
“Enough talking, rest now,” Norrin said.
He was so tempestuous. Adorable. And it was hard to refuse him, so Thori did as he was told.