Y/N woke to the feeling of a calloused hand running down her bare back, sliding from her neck to the dip of her hip. Lips pressed to her temple, the shape of a smile against her skin.
She shivered and stretched like a cat, the heavy fur covers shifting with her movements and uncovering more of her body. The hand on her hip took advantage, sliding lower and gliding to the globe of her ass.
“Good morning, my love,” Harry said, voice low. “The sun has just risen.”
Y/N hummed, eyes still closed. “So it has. Is that a reason to disturb my sleep?”
“The children are not up yet. Forgive me for wanting the full attention of my wife, if only for a few moments before the mayhem starts.”
Harry pressed his chest to her back, pushing her gently onto her stomach. Clever fingers delved deeper beneath the sheets, and it was an instinctive reflex to open her legs as they reached her core and pushed in.
“How wet you are,” he whispered in her ear. “What would your people say, Y/N? What would the royal court of Lothian think, should they know their princess lets a northern invader defile her all day long?”
“Damn them and their opinion,” Y/N breathed out shakily, a low moan climbing out of her throat as Harry curled his fingers inside of her.
He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her throat, sucking at the junction between her neck and shoulder. His other arm slid under her waist, hand settling on the pouch of her belly.
“Will you let me have you, little doe?” he asked, pushing his hips into her ass, the hard line of his cock nestling between her cheeks. “Give me another child to dote on?”
She breathed out a laugh, pushing back against him. “You must be out of your mind, husband. The four we have are already running us ragged.”
She turned in his arm, his fingers slipping out of her core wetly. In the pale morning light, the angular lines of his face seemed soft and tender. She pressed a kiss to his lips, one hand burying itself in his thick curls, the other sliding down his chest to his cock.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Y/N said, her fist pumping slowly. Harry groaned, his hands gripping her ass to a nearly painful point. “You have more heirs than you know what to do with.”
“I will always want more, so long as I have them with you.”
He pulled her left thigh over his hip, sliding lower. As she guided him to her entrance, he pressed a hard kiss to her mouth and pushed in, swallowing her cry. He shushed her, smoothing down her hair with the tenderness only she knew he had in him.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “How perfect you are. You take me so well.”
She did not need to beg. Harry started thrusting, slowly, steadily. On every thrust, he went deeper, until it felt like they were no longer two separate individuals but one entity.
With a groan, he slid out of her and pushed her onto her stomach before she had time to complain. A fraction of a second later, he was back inside of her, one arm under her hips as he lifted her ass up. The pleasure came in relentless waves and Harry kept going faster, kept going stronger.
“Everything,” he said in her ear, each word strained. “I will give you everything.”
Y/N cried out at a particularly harsh thrust, the pleasure ramping up. She was no longer in control of anything, her body nor her mind. Harry’s name came out of her lips like a prayer, a plea to the only god she knew in this bed. The tsunami inside her veins was growing and growing, its collapse only seconds away.
As her walls clenched around his cock, Harry’s hand came to the front of her neck. It did not squeeze, never would. But he held her, bringing her head up.
“No,” he said. “Not yet. Hold on for me.”
“I- I can’t, Harry, please.”
“You can, and you will,” he replied, his tone like steel.
She could have cried from the frustration, the denied pleasure. He held himself still, long enough for the growing wave inside of her to settle down. As always, he was more aware of her limits than she was, and only when he knew she was no longer about to come did he start thrusting again.
He went at her with all the strength he had, the muscles he had spent decades carefully honing for war now used in her service. As fast as it had gone down, the wave of pleasure rose back up, aided by the fingers he pressed between her legs.
The rhythm he had set started to unravel. He bit down on the tender skin of her shoulder, burying his groans in her skin. The twinge of pain only added to the intensity of the pleasure in Y/N’s body, and the wave crested, then broke.
Every part of her body seized, as if she had been hit by lightning, and she went blind from it. Harry thrust once, twice, then buried himself inside her with a deep cry. They might have stayed that way for hours, for all she knew. Joined together, muscles weary, lungs settling.
Harry cradled her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Love of my life.”
With an exaggerated sigh, he then stretched an arm over her head to the bedside table and the contraceptive serum the midwife made her take daily.
As she swallowed the bitter liquid, Harry stood and slipped on his pants. He turned to her as he laced them up, treating her to the beautiful sight of his bare chest.
“One day,” he said. “One day, when our children are too old, you’ll plead for another.”
“Should that day come,” she smiled. “I will not need to beg.”
“True,” he leaned over, kissing her lips. “Odin be my witnes, you have made a slave of me.”
A sharp cry echoed then from the next room, impatient and angry.
“Well then, slave,” Y/N laughed. “Seems like your other master is calling.”
With a disappointed sigh that was betrayed by sudden joy in his eyes, Harry left the room. A moment later, he entered again, their daughter in his arms. Sigrid had been born only three moons ago, and she looked tiny and vulnerable still. Yet out of all their children, she was the one who resembled her father the most, from the green eyes to the thick brown curls on the top of her head.
“So fussy,” Harry said as he gazed at her frowning face. “As if she has been starved for weeks.”
“Hm, I wonder who she gets that from. Give her here.”
She settled the squirming baby against her chest, and Sigrid latched at once to Y/N’s breast. She did not look pleased, frowning at her mother as she fed. Harry settled at their side, sliding an arm behind Y/N’s back to support her.
“She will be a shieldmaiden, this one,” he said. “Her grip is stronger than the boys’ already.”
“Not strong enough yet for a sword, husband.”
Y/N did not argue. There were many cultural differences she had had to get used to, when she first came to Kaldagr. Their cult-like love for weaponry had been one of them.
She remembered the early days, how fearful she’d been, how angry. How much she had hated the man that had now given her the baby in her arms.
“Funny how things change,” she said under her breath.
“What was that, my love?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just happy.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, watched her daughter feed and hoped her sons would wake up soon. Happy, indeed.
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