Irreplaceable PXIX: What I Really Want
See my masterlist for the rest of the series.
Warnings
Smut
Gif Credit: drogonstone.
A/N: Eh... he’s in a mood here. if I missed you, I’m sorry, tell me again.
Second wife will always be second best.
Kitta and he came to see these lights. He brought her to this cliffside first to gaze out at the colours that were so majestic and romantic. You only get scraps. That wasn’t to say that Ivar wasn’t trying– he brought himself up this cliff with his men, pulling himself through the cold so that his fingers were pulsing red when he finally breaches the top. You came to clear an area while Ivar’s men begin to pull the cargo within a villa. A portion of his large fleet was off to support an earl in his ambitions and as such the earl was supplying a warm place for Ivar to show you this beautiful sight.
Rolling hills, high trees that arched into the other realms, sure. But more importantly for Ivar is the oceanside view on the cliff. Here he could have you gaze up at the moon and admire the sky.
However you take his efforts differently. You take this to mean your husband would be gone. Ivar would have to advise when he was called upon. You pull one of your husband’s thick furs around your shoulders before you dip down to help your husband up after such a long crawl. As another man lit a flame, you bring him to sit down and warm his hands.
“Are you cold?” You ask your husband. Ivar motions a thrall to fetch his dry furs, pulling them over his shoulders as he warms his hands. It’s his fault that he’s so cold, you think, the men offered to carry him.
“It’ll pass.” Ivar grumbles, running his hands together. While Ivar’s warriors fill the villa in which you would be staying, you’re reminded that you will spend your time in Ivar’s bed for months alone. There would be no children to run off with when he was frisky or a way to send him to Kitta. No, this was you and he alone. At the very least, you wouldn’t have to deal with Kitta’s advances anymore.
She confused you.
“Do you want to see it up close?” Ivar motions that there is a better area to see it from, where the long streaks of emerald green, wispy blues and hues of purple pop like Frigg weaved them just as she did the clouds. You could marvel at the sight of them– but instead, you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until he wipes them from the underside of your jaw.
“(Y/N)–” He began when you jump up abruptly. He calls out to you. “Where are you going?!”
You only knew that you were going indoors where a thrall kindles a flame with wood left by the earl, heaving a heavy breath after heavy breath from your lungs. You couldn’t believe yourself– you were freaking out! The lights you had wanted to see for years were out there and here you were, collapsed on the bed. After some time, there is a heavy sigh beside you.
“I brought you here to see the lights. What is wrong?” Ivar sits beside you, leaning over to push your hair away from your face.
“I don’t want to be here.” You lash out, smacking his hand away. “I miss my boys, I miss my son and nothing is going to make that better! You can’t make that better with some shiny clouds on this stupid icy rock in the middle of NOWHERE!”
Ivar brings his hand back to his lap, reminding himself to calm down– don’t say something he didn’t mean. Not like last time, not like when he called you his womb. His nose scrunches up tight. “You wanted to come here and I made a you promise.” Ivar rolls his head slightly. “I did not bring you here to replace our son.”
He knows who you mean. Your little boy lost some time ago with nothing to fill the ache in your arms at all. You sit up as Ivar looks at you patiently, eyes scanning over you like snakes, slithering over your body.
“Tell me what I can do to make it better.” Ivar supplies. It was not as if he wanted a miserable wife. More so than Kitta, if you were miserable, Frigg would bring hell down upon him as well.
“I want another baby.” You say with a sob. Ivar’s whole demeanor changes. His body is tense when you ask such a thing of him, fingers even rigid. He can’t recall the last time you slept with him voluntarily. It had truly been a long time. He should have leapt at your words, but instead, his whole body feels as if its aching. If nothing else, he knows that sex with you would result in a beautiful child.
But what if the gods weren’t appeased?
What if all the sacrifices he made, the conquest of Christians and feasts in their honour had not reached their ears?
Worst of all, what if he had another son delivered back into their arms?
In the same way, how can he deny you, looking so heart broken with tears streaming down your soft, ice kissed cheeks? He couldn’t. Ivar struggles with words a while longer before he concedes to your will.
“If you will come with me to go see these lights, and stay with me like my wife rather than sail home, I will give you another baby to hold.” Ivar folds his arms. Your face lights up in glee– like he hasn’t seen in years. You thrust yourself onto his lap, arms around his neck and pepper him in the softest of kisses. He counts them: three to his lips, four up his jaw and two over his sideburns until you tip him over with one strong kiss of tongues.
It had been a long, long time since he felt you so excited for him. Sure, he saw you as you fuss over your appearance for King Sverri. He would be dumb not to see how you lit up when you saw him. Ivar grunts, motioning for you to get up so that you might go see what he promised of you.
The lights. The vibrant greens lash like Jormungandr on this frozen rock. The blues are like the sapphire of your husband’s eyes, which glitter as he watches you spin and laugh, looking so beautiful– and it was all for him. There is no Kitta or Sverri to ruin this moment. No, it is you laughing unadulterated in the snow. Almost like a child that saw the light for the first time.
“Avaldr!” You call out to the skies. “I hope you can see them too–”
Then you spin around to where Ivar sat on his chair, legs bound tight this time. What use was a crutch on this slick? You slide upon him and all too instinctually his hands wind about the curve of your hips on his. It has been so long since you both had sex, Ivar realizes that he simply had gotten used to being without your body. He settled with Kittas and–
Settled. The word falls heavy in his stomach. He was settling by having her as a wife. The five or four days he spent with her a week, turning away from his young family that he could often hear playing Hnútukast, tossing bones at one another across the hall or his boys wrestling began to grow darkly on him. So much so, he hadn’t realized how much he had been without for your body.
“It is so cold out here!” You seem different somehow. With the news that he would give you another child, you seem rejuvenated.
“Lets go make some heat.” Ivar teases his fingers along your upper arm. “My wife.”
“Make some?” You ask, lifting the cold pads of your fingers to stroke along the thin hair above his lip. Then a giggle. “Make some babies– you mean.”
Ivar nods and you pop up, sliding his arm over your slender shoulder. Another man comes to his side to help him back inside your rooms. The warm crackle of a flame pops when Ivar collapses on the bed, motioning to the thrall.
“Get my wife some ale.” He murmurs.
The thrall brings you a glass as you shed furs off your body– downing the cup quickly. The thrall left the pitcher beside you. You pluck another drink up, beginning to loosen the strands at your breasts when Ivar tosses his knife across the room at the thrall, hissing sharply. It’s fine for a husband to watch you undress, of course, but nobody else should have the pleasure of seeing you naked. You drop the top garment, dropping your olive dress to the ground with a slump.
He swallows dryly when your fingers run across the edge of your white underdress, peeling inch by inch over the skin he so desperately aches for. He courses his tongue across his lip and waits for you to slide your dress over the bend in your waist. Then you slowly drift it off your breasts and abandon the bandage that keeps your chest modest, he sucks in a hot puff of air.
“You’re sure about this?” He says despite the fact that he rather not. Ivar can’t deny what he did last time you had sex– nor help be confused how a wife would trust their husband after such a thing. But you only smile, grasping his shoulders and forcing him back onto the bed. He lowers himself obediently backwards and lets you take control.
“Yes, I want to take my time with you.” You take his lips in a kiss, then another– and another until Ivar’s soft moans are filling the air. He can’t get enough when you pull away, shedding the layers of his tunics off his firm muscles. “I want you to fill me with another.”
Ivar watches you unbuckle his pants, pulling them down with every piece of fabric unbinding his legs. Finally he finds himself naked, and you, grind your naked body over his; breasts and sex shifting against him. His cock wills itself to life like something spring loaded, hardening against your sex that teases him. It’s been so long– years.
“Fuck…” He whispers, gliding his hands down your curves to simply enjoy himself. He had sex with Kitta, angry sex at her negligence when Avaldr died, but there’s something that nags his brain to just relax with you. So he does.
“Let me take care of you.” Ivar mumbles, shifting you back onto the bed. You don’t say anything when he sinks down over your legs, leaving a trail of kisses from your hip bones down between your thighs. He rakes his tongue along the junction of your legs to your torso as if mocking you.
“So do it.” You grumble at him. He can’t help a little laugh, hot air tickling your outer lips. He grins, letting his tongue caress over your lips and slit with his whole mouth agonizingly slowly. Your legs spread, knees pulling back to watch him go, nose massaging against your mound as he swoops along your cunt in smooth licks.
“Fuck.” Another breathy moan, reverberating tremors of excitement across your moist lips. “I forgot how delicious you taste.”
Ivar flattens his tongue, swooping over your cunt in a smooth lick. Then another, zigzagging his tongue up to your clit for a suckle. Inadvertently your hips shift to buck him a little. A gasp falls from your tongue at long last– telling Ivar that your little hole must be moistening that sweet honey for him. He shifts down, forcing his tongue in to receive his treat, nose grinding against your soaked cunt.
“Ivar– please. It’s slow.” You ache, knowing that he full well knows that you want more than those genial licks and teasing flicks against your clit. He pulls his soaked lips away from your entrance, gliding his pink tongue over his lips to rake up any left over excitement. Then he would moisten his fingers with his tongue, gliding them within your cunt. Your walls clamp tight around him. He curses himself for it: your unloved walls must have gone so long with only fingers to warm you. Or a thrall– but he knew that you would never do that to Ragnhild. His digits are different from your own, thicker and almost mechanical in the way he glides up to the knuckle, twiddling his fingers to your cervix.
“O-Oh!” You whimper, causing Ivar’s digits to pull back significantly, stretching you with a flick of his wrist. “Please…”
Ivar watches you shift under his fingers. “You want more?” He asks, a smooth and steady motion of his fingers in and out, in and out with nothing more but his hot breath against your sex and those eyes. God, those eyes drink you in as if he couldn’t get enough.
“Please, Ivar, please.” You let out a harsh moan as his fingers curl, massaging a spot deep within your cunt that felt just right. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He catches your gaze, tilting his head in for only seconds. “Starved.” He enunciates the words, digging his tongue back against your hood. He smoothes over your lips for seconds, dragging and raking his tongue to encircle your clit. While his fingers fuck your pussy, Ivar latches onto that sensitive little button that would push you over. It doesn’t take but moments for you to squeal his name so loud– he knew his men in the other rooms heard you crying for him to give it, more, please, faster faster, agh!
Just like that you come undone, fucking his fingers for more and digging his head down into your cunt, hands at the braiding at his head. He drives you to completion, spilling your wetness over his face and finally giving it up. He fucks you through your orgasm before lifting back up, kissing you in a salty mash of lips together. His forearms around your head keeps you pinned in place.
“Let me now.” You push up as if to push him over when you’re stopped by his firm rock of a body.
“No.” Ivar grunts, letting a hand drift down, coating his cock in your juices. “It’s about you.”
“Then let me ride you.” You mumble, watching as Ivar’s eyes widen. You hadn’t rode him much– but when you had, it was all for you. Ivar falls back, hand around his aching shaft. You slide your legs on either side of him, holding your body up while facing him. His tip grazes your entrance and as you sink down, Ivar wasn’t ready. You take him tightly within your wet walls, devouring him up like a vice. Ivar’s hands drift down to pull you down, hissing when you snap your hands against his knuckles.
“I told you I wanted to take my time. Hands down.” You reprimand– and he knows. He just knows that you will make this painful for him, sliding your hips up and down him slowly as if savouring the way he spreads you apart. Ivar’s head drops back against the bed, noting that if this is how you want to make a baby, he has to supply it. Hips shifting, walls quivering and Ivar helpless to shift. He focuses on the way your cunt snaps up and down his dick, milking him as if your pussy knew what you were after.
Babies.
“Shit… shit…” Ivar moans, hands squirming on the bed resisting the urge to buck you up. You know what you’re doing, he can tell from the way you rock his dick back and forth within him, unwittingly clenching him tight. You develop an achingly slow rhythm.
“It’s too slow.” Ivar complains. He wanted this to be about you, to give you what you wanted– which would have been far easier if he was on top. This way, you were controlling it. You catch his eyes and descend upon him in slow flicks of your hips with filthy excitement dribbling over his tense balls. He could cum already– just from the sight of having you back on his dick.
“Will you force me like that again?” Your words are a hiss, sharp as you tease him. His eyes, having been clenched, open again. You are teaching him a fucking lesson– one that Ivar thought you were over.
“No, never.” He gives his shuddering answer, beginning to lose his apologetic edge. “Now fuck me, damn it to hel.”
Ivar snaps his thumb to your clit, rubbing that sensitive little button as incentive. You squeal, a pleased moan dipping out into a sheer yell just as Ivar loses patience. He wanted this to be all about you, to use his body to please you and make you feel all the love he had built up in his weak bones. Instead his arms snap around your body, forming a tight cuff around your arms locking about your back. He yanks you forward against his chest and his thrusts become savage– short little snaps. Your legs pull up close to your chest with a scream, eliciting such wonderful pleasure built up between your legs. You can’t help yourself, screaming out his name and silencing any men outside about his ‘failing’ marriages. No, this time, he would make sure you knew how he desired you for all the times you said he did not.
He rolls, still sheathed tightly inside of you, causing your legs to spread with the plush furs beneath your back. His hands leave your back to steady himself around you. His arms would balance himself where his legs hardly could and he determines himself in a quick motion of his hips. He saws himself in and out of your body, walls gaping with every pull out.
“Do you still think I don’t desire you?!” He snaps the words that you told Ragnhild all the time– his legs are shaking, so close to his orgasm as he is. Ivar lurches a hand up, tightly knit in your hair as he pulls it to the side, causing your neck to become exposed. He digs his teeth in the column of your neck as you cry out again and again.
“No no no no no.” You squeal, marred by his tongue laving over the harsh bites. He smirks against you, the broad muscles of his back tensing as he moves. Your legs bob against his hips– and that smirk quickly becomes a wicked smile.
“That’s fucking–” A harsher thrust, “right! This is what you want– this is where you belong! On my fat cock, not his!”
“Yes please, please!” You find yourself shouting, letting your hand drift between his shifting body to massaging your engorged clit. His cock begins to pulse inside you and you whimper, waving your hips on his with his thrusts. You become undone with a shuddering cry, gushing over him. Ivar, satisfied with his work, rocks you into the bed in harsh final thrusts. His hips flush, length disappearing completely within you as he stutters his heavy load of cum deep within you. You feel his body tensing and releasing under harsh groans, agh, agh. You milk him of his seed, walls willing and heart needing his creamy essence with every contraction of your walls. Ivar holds himself above you and as he finishes giving you the seed you so desired, he comes back up to capture your lips in smaller kisses.
“What was that?” You mumble in a puff of a breath. Not his. Ivar’s cock stays embedded inside you until it softens, bubbles of his cum dripping down your hole. You had heard what he said. Dread fills Ivar’s stomach.
“Nothing.” He mutters, shifting his soft cock out of your entrance. You grasp his bicep to keep him where he was, curling your back to look at him.
“Are you honestly concerned about what the seer said?” You ask. He throws himself onto the bed and out of your arms, forcing you to fall upon him. It stews in his stomach for some time.
“Drop it.” Ivar shifts away. You reach over his arm to shake him a little– but he doesn’t respond. Perhaps in a way, its better that he doesn’t. You rather he stew quietly than explode angrily.
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