#firstworldsmutproblems

[hurricanerin]

I’ll Never Tell Ch. 2: Hate Myself

Pairing: Loki/OFC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, non-con, power imbalance, violence, breeding, forced orgasms.

Chapter summary: That time we signed and sealed.

<<Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 >>

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*Because Petra doesn’t understand Jotun, I don’t provide translations aside from skapning, which means “creature.”  (I’ll tell you a secret though, I culturally appropriated an entire language from my fellow Norsk.  Google Translate will lend a helping hand if you’re that curious.)

Before dawn, Petra awoke to a nudge to the ribs.

“Rise,” grunted a female voice.

Eyes opening slowly, blurred with sleep, she scrubbed her face with her hand and hissed when a foot connected with her middle a second time.

"I’m getting up,” she growled.

The Jötunn woman at her side huffed and went back to work, stirring a pot over the fire.  The smell of simple oatmeal made Petra’s mouth water, and she scrambled to get up.  Still dressed in her clothes from the day before, she straightened her outer layer and smoothed her hair.

“May I have some of that?

The woman muttered something in her own language and spooned a serving into a metal bowl that she shoved at Petra.  The Jötunn threw a spoon at the dark elf, who caught it gratefully and dug in with vigor.

“The King wants to see you,” grunted the giant.

At his mention, Petra’s mouth ran dry, making it difficult to swallow the bite of oats she’d taken.

“Where is he?”

“You’ll find him in his tent,” said the woman, her words heavily accented.

In his tent. She sighed.  Close proximity to such an intense man ideally wasn’t the first stop of her day, but it wasn’t like she had any say in that.

Silently Petra finished her breakfast, staring straight ahead at the tent wall as she chewed thoughtfully.  She hadn’t been dragged into the middle of the wilderness in her sleep or kicked out quite yet.  Maybe he had taken pity on her.

When she finished, she held the bowl out to her host.

"Thank you for letting me stay here.  I hope to repay your kindness,” she offered.

The woman huffed and took the bowl, stashing it in a tub of steaming water sitting over the fire.

Petra wandered through dawn-lit camp, relying on memory to get to Loki’s tent.  She passed groups of Frost Giants rallying together with spears, bows, and arrows, seemingly readying for a hunt.  Their brows raised equally in curiosity and furrowed in disdain as she passed.  Stares followed her all the way to the entrance of the king’s tent.  She peaked inside, knowing there was a chance that going in would only hasten her removal from their camp.

Loki sat at a dining table, sipping from a cup in his hand.  He glanced up as she entered and motioned at the empty seat next to him.

Sitting was good.  Sitting seemed like it could lead to something more permanent.

“I’ve thought of a solution to your problems,” he said.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Petra strode to the chair and sat with her hands in her lap.

“Anything.  What needs to happen?”

Loki steepled his fingers against his lips, his mouth quirked into a small, but devious, smile.

“As I mentioned yesterday, we only have three children, a number incongruent with our adult population.”  He gauged her response, quietly watching her.  When it became clear he wanted confirmation that she understood, she nodded.

He continued, “We… haven’t been able to reproduce properly for quite some time now.  It seems something in us has changed biologically, preventing healthy pregnancies.”

Petra watched his solemn face, nibbling her lip.

“We think it has to do with the temperature of the fetus.  Infants have been born warmer and warmer, and it’s possible they’re no longer able to withstand the natural cold of their mother’s womb.”

Listening attentively, she folded her legs beneath her and perched on the chair.   Loki fiddled with the cup between his hands, lifting it to his mouth for another drink.  Metal clanked on wood when he put it down, staring at her warily.

“This might… Here.”

He produced a second cup and poured, then pushed it at her.  Impatient to hear the conditions, she ignored the drink, fidgeting anxiously in her seat.  His eyes mirrored the irritation he felt and he pointed at the cup.

“Drink,” he commanded.

Her icy blue gaze narrowed, not moving from Loki’s face as she picked up the cup and took a draw.  Almost immediately she sputtered and coughed. It’s alcohol content was impossibly high.

“What is this?” she choked, her eyes watering as the liquid burned down her throat.

“Good Jötunn ale.  You may thank me in a minute.  Drink.”

Eying the drink dubiously, she took another tiny sip, wincing at the taste.

“Why am I going to thank you?”

His face was a mixture of emotions.  His eyes were serious.  Grim, even. But his lips were twisted into a small smile that bordered on contemptuous.

“Because my proposition is… unconventional.  For an outsider, at least.”

She leaned in, growing frustrated that he was drawing it out.

Licking his lip, Loki’s mouth opened to speak again, “I want to breed you.”

Brows practically raised to her hairline, Petra let out a sharp laugh, only to interrupt herself by stammering in surprise when his face remained severe.  Loki continued, nonchalantly standing and closing the distance between them, invading her space as he boredly gripped her chin.  After holding her jaw for a moment, he jerked his hand, forcing her to angle her face back and forth as he inspected her.

“You’re seemingly healthy.  Somewhat intelligent.  My people are going to die out if this bout of infertility continues.  Jötunn and elf may be compatible genetically; there’s lore of hybrids.”  He pursed his lips.  “It’s pointless for me to approach other realms with this request.  No one wants to mate with a monster.  You, on the other hand...,” the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, “You have very little choice.”   Releasing her chin, he crossed his arms.  “Breed with us and you can stay.  Refuse and you’ll be gone before nightfall.”

Skin prickling with goosebumps, Petra swallowed hard.  Last night she’d pledged anything to stay, and this definitely fell under the scope of anything. It just wasn’t what she had expected.  Loki had given the impression that she was revolting, not someone he would consider solid breeding stock.

Her own childhood had been bleak.  She was only a half-bred elf; her mother had scandalously lain with a Midgardian man and Petra had been conceived.  She grew up a pariah with a deep sense of emotion incompatible with the wicked lifestyle of Dökkálfar.  Being half human flooded her with more sentiment than her elven counterparts, and though she had agonized to blend in, the Dökkálfar sensed something was wrong with her.  Suspicion arose and when her mother was pressed on the identity of her father, her true heritage had been revealed and her mother murdered.

As a result, having children wasn’t something she’d considered.  She enjoyed them, but hadn’t wanted her own to suffer the same fate she had.  On Svartalfheim, at least.    

Deep in her thoughts, Petra startled when Loki said her name.

“Petra.”

Lost for words, she glanced up at him, brows furrowed in thought.

“I’m leaving in a moment, we’re hunting this morning.  You will remain in my tent and think things over.  I’ll give you until tonight to make a decision.”

When she didn’t speak, he turned and strode to a chest near the end of his bed.  Opening it, he retrieved a pair of worn, fingerless leather gloves and slipped them over his hands.  He also drew out a long dagger and a bow and arrow set before turning his gaze on Petra.

“Now, can you read?” he asked as he sheathed the knife.

Still stunned, she nodded.  He smirked, as if pleased that his little elf was literate.

“There are a few books on the shelf.  Otherwise you’ll have to entertain yourself.”  He sat his hip on the table, his knee touching hers.  “Don’t leave my tent.”

The crisp direction of his voice cleared her mind.

“Why not?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed.  He wasn’t accustomed to questioning.

“Because I can’t guarantee that those who remain in camp won’t cause you harm.   Everyone is curious to see the mysterious elf brought in last night, and some curiosities are more macabre or licentious than others.”

Eyes wide, she shuddered.  “I’ll stay here.”

“Good.”

With one last critical glance at the girl, he selected from a batch of spears leaning against the tent wall and stalked out into the cold.

“I guess that’s goodbye,” she muttered.

When he returned Loki found Petra asleep, curled on his bed.  He watched the slumbering girl for a moment, more curious than he’d like to admit.   She was interesting, yes, but also rather lovely.  For an elf, at least.  Jötunn standards of beauty were very different, her slender build alone made her look weak, which was very unattractive.  But, beneath the mountain of clothes she was buried in, he had a feeling her body would be at least somewhat desirable.  Her face certainly was.  He could easily picture his cock between her deep blue-black lips or her features distorted in pleasure as he pistoned into her.

She’d unbound her long hair and it lay in a tangled mess around her face.  Her white brows were stark against her dark blue-gray skin, which looked softer up close than he would’ve thought.  Almost like human flesh.   Delicate.  Another weakness.

She was rather odd for a Dökkálfr, he supposed, which was an undesired variable for a strange situation.  He really should send her on her way as she’d only be a nuisance, but the idea came to him last night and so he’d propositioned her.

Lazily dragging his dagger from the sheath, he flipped it, catching the handle.  His booted feet clunked against the ground as he took two steps forward, vigilant but intrigued by the sleeping girl.  Just because she hadn’t acted like a true Dökkálfr the night prior didn’t mean she wasn’t toying with him.

The layers of clothing packed on her lower body were thick enough that she only felt a dull pressure when he prodded her leg with the knife.

“Wake up, skapning.”

Her eyes fluttered open as she realized where she was and scrambled to sit up.  Pushing her silver her hair from her face, she sleepily examined the Jötunn king, fresh from the hunt.

Feathers woven into his hair complemented the golden beads that were present yesterday, and the red smeared on his cheek almost matched his eyes.  She was fairly certain it was blood.  Pulling her knees to her chest, she studied him for a moment, then blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Hunting looks like it was successful.”

Loki made a noise of affirmation, peeling off his bloodied gloves and tossing them into the trunk at the foot of the bed.  He abandoned his bow and arrows as well, then rested his hip against the table and ran a finger along his blade.

The corner of his mouth quirked and he shot Petra a glance out of the corner of his eye.  Then, he slowly flattened his hand, palm up.  His fingers contracted and a small crystalline ball materialized, growing in size as he fostered it, forming a hunk of ice.  Casually he began rubbing it in circular strokes along the length of the dagger.

They sat in almost silence, the only noise the repetitive wet slide of ice on metal as he sharpened the knife.  Her eyes flicked around the room, looking for a conversation piece or way to put off answering his earlier request, but she could think of nothing and he was waiting for her to speak.  With a deep breath, she let her lids fall closed.

“I’ll do it.”

His downcast eyes raised.

“You’ll do what?”

Petra stammered, the carmine of her blush contrasting heavily against her dark skin.

“I’ll… Let you do what we talked about earlier.”

He motioned for her to continue, raising his brows as if confused.  She pulled at the hem of her sleeve, avoiding his maroon eyes.

“I-I’ll let you breed me,” she mumbled.

Loki’s face relaxed and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Good.”

Petra waited for him to elaborate, to give her some kind of directive or information about her new assignment.  Instead, he ignored her and continued sharpening.  She squirmed and slipped off the bed, nervously twining her hands behind her back.

“So… How will it work?”

With a smirk, Loki looked up from his knife.

“You unfamiliar with mating practices?”

The elf’s cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears warmed to dark crimson and she glared.  “I understand the logistics.  I meant how will this progress?  When will I do… it?  And with whom?”

Turning the dagger, he began working on the other side.

“With me,” he said nonchalantly.  He almost seemed disinterested.  “And we start tonight.”

Flustered, Petra struggled for words.  She didn’t expect it to begin so soon.  And with him?  The thought of mating with a Jötunn male was foreign enough, but to do so with their unsettling king who could barely look at her?   Mildly terrifying.

“Y-you?  I thought… Wouldn’t one of the others be better?”  One that she didn’t offend with her mere presence?  She flushed deeper as her mind raced, searching for additional reasons they were an unsuitable pair.  “Wouldn’t it be best to mate with a smaller Jotunn?  For a smaller child?”

Loki considered her size for a moment.  Compared to the giants, she was miniscule, but typical for a Dökkálfr.  He tilted his head, inspecting her hips.  They were wide enough to carry a large child, he supposed.  His child.  He’d rely on nature not to kill mother with baby.  

“No.  I’ll breed you myself.”  When she opened her mouth to argue, he gestured at the tent opening, “Or you can go.”

Petra stubbornly clammed up, her arms crossed in refusal to leave.  Loki put down the knife and ball of ice.  Her breath hitched as he took a step towards her, slowly backing her against the tent wall.  His chilly indigo finger nudged her chin up, forcing her to meet his cold gaze.

“You Dökkálfar are conniving.  Sneaky.  I don’t trust you not to manipulate my men.  Norns know the damage you could do.  Tricking them, turning them against each other, against me with your mere existence as a fertile female.”

Petra hissed in surprise, jerking her chin from his grasp and fighting the urge to gnash her teeth.  She was two heads shorter than he was, frozen and laughably weak in comparison, yet he had the audacity to accuse her of taking advantage of his people.

“I would never do something like that!”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ll breed you or no one will.”

Scowling, she let the back of her head hit the side of the tent and gazed upwards.  She couldn’t force herself to make eye contact while talking about such an intimate topic, not when he was making such accusations yet still wanted sex.

“Fine.  I’ll do it with you.  Or let you do it to me.  However it’s supposed to work.”

Loki fought to keep warmth from the small smile that appeared on his lips.  As lustful a being and eager to fuck his skapning as he was, he did truly care for the survival of his people and believed he had a chance with the peculiar girl.

“Good.  We’ll begin tonight.”

He reached behind him, presenting a long dress, a pair of thick woolen socks, some crude leather slippers and a cloak from the table.  “Put these on.  They’re warmer than your rags.”

Petra scowled, picking at her holey trousers.  They had been nice when she initially left, but the elements of Jötunheim had torn them apart.  She gratefully took them and shuffled to the far corner of the tent.

“Don’t look,” she snapped over her shoulder as she peeled off her inadequate coat to change.

Loki looked.  She was thinner than he expected, again challenging his idea of beauty, but the swell of a breast was the swell of a breast and hers were large enough.  His eyes wandered down her back to her rear.  Though she could use a few extra meals, her hips were just right for digging his fingers into.  Suddenly the image of his thick blue cock sliding into darker pussy made him hard.  Would her lips be pink?  Or blue-gray?  He was interested in investigating, but at a later time.

She finished changing and folded her old clothes, clutching them to her chest when she turned around.  She was only half surprised to see him staring at her.  She was getting the hang of this tricky Jötunn king.

“You’re very rude,” she said, lifting her chin.

Loki grinned, the first true smile she’d seen from him.

“You have no idea.”

That night, after a dinner delivered by Loki, Petra found herself squirming under the gaze of the giant.  He was blatantly staring at her from the tent entrance, peeling plates of armor and straps of leather from his body and depositing them on the ground.  Her stomach fluttered as he neared her, shirtless, clothed only in a pair of leather trousers.  His red eyes glittered in the low light, fixed intently on her.

The Jötnar didn’t seduce.  It was an unnecessary ritual of exorbitance meant for more refined beings, but he found himself drawn to touching her.   In more ways than just those that resulted in procreation.

He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder, running his calloused fingers over it and it fell through them.  She shivered, eyes wide as she looked up at him.

“It’s time.  Undress,” he grunted as he unfastened the rest of his armor.

Mouth too dry to swallow properly, she obeyed.  The comforting weight of her cloak disappeared as she shrugged it from her shoulders, letting it fall in a pile at her feet.  She peeled off the clothes he’d given her, which had been warmer than the ones she arrived in, letting them drop to the floor as he had.

When she stopped at her undergarments, appearing shy and small, Loki had to purse his lips to keep his mouth from curling in disgust.

“Have you not done this before?”

“I have,” she snapped, glaring as she reached behind to unfasten the band around her chest.

His shoulders dropped in relief and he let out a breath.  He was not interested in a simpering virgin’s first time.

When her last pieces of her security were gone, he took a moment to admire her body, starting with the tinge of scarlet kissing her ears.  Growing hard, he admired her breasts, there was enough to squeeze and fill his hands.  The width of her hips was slightly greater than he’d expected, which would bode well for both mother and child.  He palmed himself through his pants, his eyes amused as she shivered from cold.  She was such a fragile thing.    

“On the bed,” he pointed.

Arm clutched over her breasts, Petra approached his bed with a shaky breath.  Everything inside her screamed to run, that she didn’t have to do this.  Didn’t have to trade her body.  Maybe she could survive on her own.  But in her gut, she knew this was her only chance at living.   Jötunheim was simply too savage a realm for her to endure alone. Without looking at him she turned and sat on the edge of the mattress.

Loki rolled his eyes.  Non-Jötnar were never proficient at mating positions and she was no exception.

“On your hands and knees.”

The bed dipped under her weight as she crawled on top of it, positioning herself on all fours.  She chanced a glance behind her only to flush as she caught him with his ridged cock in his hand.  If she’d thought him intimidating before, now he was as menacing as his realm.  His girth was just shy of requiring his entire hand to grasp it, and she sincerely doubted she could take his entire length, let alone the added texture.

He gave her a pleased grin.  “Mating with giants has its perks.”

Petra pursed her lips and faced forward, finding a spot on the wall to stare at.

His feet scuffed against the floor as he closed the distance between them. She was far from ready, but didn’t expect a comfortable experience to begin with.  The Jötnar were beasts, he’d be on and off in less than a minute, surely.

When she felt a hot puff against her rear, she twisted to look back at him.  The king was on his knees, staring at her exposed cunt.

“You’re practically steaming, skapning.”

Her lips worked to form some kind of smart retort, but her tongue was heavy in her mouth.  With a deep blush, she turned back around.

A hand roved over her hip, dragging down her arse cheek to the back of her thigh.  It was joined by the other on the opposite side, and he gently pulled her open with a groan.  For some reason, perhaps because she was his exotic little creature, the lilac of her pussy lips made his mouth water.  He longed to suck them into his mouth, an impulse he’d never had with a Jötunn woman.  He shook himself.  Breeding was a very practical activity, one he enjoyed but never relished in, and he didn’t intend to start now.

Licking a cool finger, he eased it inside her.   Immediately her walls clamped down, making him groan at her tightness.   She contorted again, looking back at him with wide eyes.  He ignored her in favor of working his finger in and out of her hot cunt.

Stunned and confused, Petra faced forward once again, too self-conscious to watch him manually defile her.  She let out a gasp when he crooked his finger, her body too stiff to turn this time.  A burning sensation began in her pelvis, the heat warming her from the inside out.  As he continued she panted, pressure beginning to build and she found herself arching back in search of more.  With a smirk she couldn’t see, Loki obliged, using the gathering wetness to thrust his finger harder.  When his rhythm increased, her attempt to hold back a groan resulted in a choked grunt.

Only because Loki couldn’t see her face, Petra allowed herself the freedom to make expressions.  Or, perhaps it happened without her conscious permission.  She wasn’t sure.  Her mouth hung open, brows furrowed in pained pleasure as his fingers rubbed a spot inside her that made her see white.  As he casually stroked, the heat in her pelvis grew unbearable and her inner muscles began to flutter in anticipation.  She teetered on the edge of the precipice, so close to release she could barely stand it.  She’d never come at the hands or cock of another, only from touching herself.  She was quickly learning the allure of another’s touch and she wanted more.

Then he stopped.  The burn remained, but the intensity began to soften.

Dumbfounded, she twisted, teeth bared as she stared at him pleadingly.

“I-Please!”

Loki wiped his fingers on the inside of her thigh and ignored her cry.

"Why did you stop?” she demanded breathlessly.

"Stimulation aids in lubrication, making sex more comfortable.  Additionally, the contractions of your eventual orgasm will pull my seed further into your womb.  It is to my advantage that you come.”

That didn’t come close to explaining why he’d just intentionally denied her pleasure, but Petra was too single-minded to care.  All she wanted was to feel that winding pressure again.  She grunted in confusion and caught the sound of Loki sighing.

“But, until my come is inside you, your orgasm holds no worth,” he explained.  “I’m merely preparing you.”

Had she control over her breathing, Petra would’ve huffed.  Instead, she panted for air, her arms shaking.

After a beat of silence, the tips of his black nails slowly scratched down the backs of her thighs.   As he released a pleased rumble, the frightened girl fought the urge to clench her legs together.  When they threatened to close, barring his entrance, he stopped.

“Do you want to survive the night?”

The only answer she offered was short, shallow breaths.  He slapped her rear, making her jerk and coaxing a whine from between her lips.

“Answer me.  I don’t have time for games.”

“Yes!  Please, yes, let me stay,” she mumbled.

“Then keep yourself spread.  I won’t repeat the command.”

She uttered a soft sob of frustration and hung her head, burying her fingers in the bedclothes as she resituated herself with her legs wide open.

“Good girl.”

Though the praise sounded clinical, the words stoked that fire in her belly.  Positive reinforcement wasn’t something Petra took lightly.  It was something she had ached for at home, but rarely received, even as a child.  It simply wasn’t part of Dökkálfar culture.

Loki’s fingers pet her entrance, idly smoothing moisture over her opening as he continued admiring his prize.  He hummed and she heard the rustle of clothing, indicating he’d stood.   More noise followed, and she jerked when he pressed his bare hips against her rear, his cock prodding her.

He was tall enough that had she merely bent over the side of the bed, he’d have to get on his knees himself.  She had a feeling he would be reluctant to do so.  Instead, the added height of the raised bed lined her rear up with his pelvis.  Wary of his size and strength, she braced herself for his entrance.  A hiss sounded as he began to press into her, making her aware of each and every raised detail on his cock.  He stretched her almost beyond capacity and it stung, causing her to wince away.

Another crack sounded as he spanked her twice.

“Do you know what we do with Jötunn females resistant to mating?”

“No,” she breathed.

“We tether them.  Do you want to be tied down?  To have your baby sired while you’re at my mercy?”

Afraid to use her voice should it quiver, she shook her head.

“Good skapning,” he crooned, sliding his hand over her rear to press on her lower back. The pressure he applied encouraged her to arch, and in fear of being bound, she held still.

With a groan, he seated himself while she bit her lip to keep from whimpering.  He felt as big as he looked and she swore she’d split open at any moment.  To her surprise, he allowed her time to adjust.

He gathered her hair in one hand, running his fingers through the silky strands before wrapping it in his fist.   Holding her hair taut, he began with small thrusts, smirking as a high-pitched groan slipped from between her lips.  She could feel every inch of the ridged designs on his cock rub against her swollen walls, causing her eyes to roll back.  That cursed, beloved warmth returned to her belly and she felt her walls squeeze his length involuntarily, coaxing a groan of his own.  Petra began to relax as his thrusts grew faster.

The first time he nearly pulled out of her, then slammed back in, she collapsed onto her forearms, which forced her back into an arc and opened her slit to him even further.  He grunted in pleasure and his thrusts quickly wound the coil in her pelvis.  With a shocked cry she came, shuddering as he fucked her through her orgasm.  Panting, she let her head drop, her ribs expanding quickly with each desperate intake of air.

“Did you just come?”

“I-Yes?”

“Do not waste a vital part of the mating process like that.  What if you couldn’t come after I finish?  You’ll save your orgasm for after mine.”

She sputtered, trying to turn but he held her hair tightly.

“It’s not like I tried to!”

“Good, then you should be able to put forth the effort to contain yourself.”

With that, he began rutting into her without warning and she buried her face in the sheets as that cursed pressure began rebuilding.  Afraid of his wrath, she wriggled, trying to find a position where his ridged cock didn’t feel as good pummeling her, but couldn’t find one and the heat was building.  Light exploded behind her eyes and she nearly lost her balance as her cunt contracted, squeezing his cock so hard it almost hurt.  Loki’s grip on her hips was all that kept her stable.

There was a beat of silence.

“If you come again before I do, I’ll stop and you’ll sleep outside.”

Petra’s panting stuttered and she managed a nod.  As if she could control what her body was doing.

Loki resumed thrusting, growling and running his hands up along the length of her spine to her upper back.  Long, wickedly strong fingers dug into her skin as he yanked her shoulders back, forcing her to arch painfully.  She cried out as his black nail bit into her flesh, overwhelmed by the mixture of pleasure and pain.

She put every available neuron towards preventing another orgasm.  She thought about home as the coil in her belly tightened, about blood and torture and scathing hate.  He hissed as her walls began to flutter and she cried out, this time actively trying to crawl away from him to prevent her orgasm.

His fingers dug into her sides, anchoring her in place as he lost his rhythm, his hips jerking as he grunted deep in his throat.   His erratic pumping forced another orgasm from Petra and she let out a shriek of frustration, terrified that she’d die alone outside tonight.   They both remained in place, panting heavily as their hearts slowed.

“You’re fortunate I came, skapning, or you’d be sleeping with the wolves.”

Petra managed to exhale on a whimper, her pussy still throbbing.  She tried to crawl out from under him, but he held her tight.

“I’ll stay inside of you until we fall asleep,” he stated, his breath tickling her ear.

She released a yelp of surprise when he wrapped an arm around her middle, lifting her as he crawled forward on the bed.  Mindful of her inferior Dökkálfar blood, he pulled a fur from the floor and wrapped it around the both of them.

Her cunt pulsed as she tried to get comfortable, unintentionally squeezing him.

“Keep that up and there will no longer be a use for this load to impregnate you.  I will provide many more, and easily can tonight.”

She stilled almost immediately.  Delirious from her orgasms and the stress of the day, her lids fluttered shut before she had time to process that she was falling asleep with the Jötnar king’s cock inside her.

thanks to @writeyourmindaway​ for the divider 💖