Chapter 23 To Discipline a God #2
Thori shuddered at the praise. On the next strike, he outright moaned. His skin was flushed pink all over, and when Njord let his palm rest flat against the heated flesh, Thori leaned into the touch.
Njord delivered the next blows in a blur of rising arousal, his fingers tingling pleasantly from the impact. He needed to put a stop to this before he lost control completely.
“Twenty,” Thori gasped, trembling under his touch.
And for a breathless moment, Njord didn’t know what to do with him.
“Njord,” Thori breathed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t—I can’t—” Thori’s voice broke. “Please…don’t stop.”
Njord’s breath caught. The proud Prince of Asgard, reduced to begging. It should have been victory, but instead it felt like the Norns had placed a gift in his hands, precious and fragile.
Carefully stroking the reddened skin, Njord marveled at the hand-shaped marks he’d left. He dipped his fingers between Thori’s perfect cheeks, allowing his thumb to catch at his hole.
Thori whined and spread his legs as far as the position allowed.
“Is this what you’re asking for?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a breath. “Yes, master.”
The title went straight to Njord’s groin, and he felt pleasure sparking between them, jumping like lightning from one longship’s mast to the next.
“As you wish.”
Right now, he’d grant Thori anything. With an impatient gesture, Njord compelled a gust of storm wind to carry a vial of oil from its place in his chest into his waiting hand, knocking over a chair in his eagerness.
He didn’t care. As soon as the vial landed in his hand, he coated his fingers and massaged the oil into the reddened skin of Thori’s backside.
He took his time teasing Thori and savoring his increasingly desperate squirming.
When he finally slipped a finger inside, Thori was reduced to moaning incoherently.
“That’s it,” Njord murmured. “Let go for me. Let me see you fall apart.”
He added a second finger, setting a steady rhythm that had Thori moaning with every drag. Thori’s pleasure resembled his personality in every way. Bold. Loud. Unrepentant. And yet, strangely sweet.
He came with a strangled cry, sparks sizzling where his hands fisted the sheets.
“Thori,” Njord chastised, though he sounded mostly fond even to himself.
He emphasized his words with a pump of his fingers, dragging a lewd ahh from Thori’s parted lips. His little thrall was shaking with aftershocks, and Njord kept his fingers buried inside him while his left stroked soothingly through the sweat-damp strands at Thori’s neck.
By the tides, Thori Odinsson lay naked and spent across his lap, his cum drying on Njord’s trousers and his lovely backside decorated with the marks of Njord’s hands.
He was gorgeous. The future king of the gods. Utterly debauched.
Njord gave a last teasing thrust of his fingers before retreating reluctantly. Thori uttered a low whine, and then he was moving, sliding down until he knelt between Njord’s legs, hands working at the fastenings of his trousers.
“Thori?”
Looking up at him with lust-glazed eyes, Thori licked his lips.
“Will you finally let me return the favor? Or are you my thrall?”
The insolence!
“Careful with that bratty mouth of yours,” Njord said, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let’s put it to better use.”
He pulled Thori in by his hair, and suddenly Thori’s mouth was around his cock, hot and clumsy and utterly perfect. It was plenty clear that Thori had never done this before as he tried to get Njord all the way in, his hands pawing at Njord’s thighs.
“Careful,” Njord said again, referring to Thori choking himself on his cock this time.
Naturally, he was ignored as Thori tried to get him in deeper with a sound of indignation. So determined to excel at everything. So eager to please. But Njord wouldn’t leave him to figure this out on his own. He tightened his grip on Thori’s hair and held him still.
“Hands behind your back.”
For a heartbeat, Thori froze, but when he obeyed, moaning deeply, something uncurled in Njord’s chest. His hips stuttered forward, and he had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from coming there and then.
Impatiently, he tugged at Thori’s hair, and to his amazement, Thori let him control his movements.
It was exhilarating. Njord fucked Thori’s mouth, while his little thrall shuddered and moaned.
“Norns, you’re perfect,” Njord groaned.
Thori looked up at him, his amber eyes glowing with unshed tears, humming around Njord’s cock. Stunning.
His climax broke over him like cresting waves, and he had barely a second to pull away. But Thori surged after him, catching part of his release with his lips while some drops landed on his cheeks and nose.
Whales and waves.
With trembling fingers, Njord tried to clean Thori’s face, but Thori surprised him again, leaning forward and licking the cum from Njord’s fingers.
“Hel, Thori.”
Their eyes met, and he watched with fondness how Thori struggled to focus, to shake off the haze of lust. Njord could relate.
“Don’t you—” Thori cleared his throat. “Don’t you like this? Me?”
How could such a proud, self-righteous bastard be so adorably insecure at the same time?
“Come here.”
Njord stood to shuck off his stained pants and pulled Thori to his feet with him. He was swaying, flushed with sex and embarrassment, and Njord slung an arm around his waist to support his weight. What was he to do with his enemy turned thrall?
Following a sudden need, inescapable like a maelstrom, Njord kissed him.
Thori stiffened in surprise, and for one gut-wrenching breath, Njord thought he’d made a horrible mistake.
Then Thori melted in his arms, returning the kiss with as much fervor as he could muster in his spent state.
His lips were soft, and he tasted of mead.
Had he managed to bring one of the other thralls to serve him?
Njord kissed him deeper, then retreated, tilting Thori’s head with a firm hand on his chin.
“Did you make someone serve you mead?”
Something mischievous glittered in Thori’s eyes.
“One of your serving maids took pity on me. I won’t say which one.”
Njord kissed him again, biting Thori’s bottom lip playfully.
“Insolent. We’ll have to work on your behavior.”
Thori’s eyes glazed over, and a small sound fell from his lips, and Njord had to fight the urge to push him down on the bed and have his way with him again. But first things first. Also, he wasn’t a lad of twenty winters anymore.
He pulled Thori toward the bath.