Weeks sped by that quickly turned into months. And yet those months still flew by like hours. A season come and gone, Autumn giving way to Winter's chill.
Planning a royal wedding, a double one at that, was no easy feat. And there never seemed to be an end to requests. Glaes had had to be talked into the whole double wedding experience and then she had to be talked into the sun and moon parallels and she had to be talked into this grand royal celebration. She hadn't necessarily wanted to drag her feet or be difficult but she was so out of her element that she often didn't know what to do besides resist.
Luckily, Dis was there. Having gone through this herself, she had been appointed to make it as easy on the brides as possible. All Laraga and Glaes really had to do was point at an option they liked and it was done. Glaes had managed to make her decisions for what she wanted, what few things she had a say over, and she had insisted on seafood in the feast and pearls on her gown. Something to remind her of where she had come from. Meanwhile, Laraga had some say in the desserts having apples, the rustic cobblers she so loved. And in the main dishes she requested roast lamb, her other favourite.
Now the day had arrived and the women weren't allowed to see the men until they came to the altar.
Laraga stood in front of a full length mirror, looking at her reflection. The gown belonged to the previous queen, and had been tailored to the current fashionable silhouette. Cream and gold, with locally made lace. She hardly recognized herself. And that was not so bad.
Glaes' gown was ivory and cloth-of-silver with pearls and diamonds to gleam and glimmer like the moon in the night sky. Pearl dust had even been dusted on her cheeks and collarbone so she shimmered. Pearls and sapphire blue ribbons had been woven into her hair to keep it away from her face.
She definitely didn't recognize the beautiful, gleaming woman she saw in her mirror and her brow furrowed. Where was the pirate? Where was the woman who chased her freedom? She fidgeted with the amber ring on her finger and she whispered to herself, "I don't know if I can do this."
Laraga had insisted that she place her own diadem on her own head. It was gold, with a mix of diamonds and sapphires in each spear, imitating the rays of the sun against the sky. Turning at the sound of her fellow bride's voice, she crossed the room to stand next to her.
"I'm nervous too," she admitted. "I don't think either of us anticipated this. But...I am glad I am sharing this day with a friend as brave as you."
"You look beautiful," Glaes said, pointing at Laraga's reflection in the mirror, "You look like you belong here. You, like all of the other women in court, probably dreamed about a grand wedding and feeling like a princess."
Her finger moved to point to her own silver and pearl reflection, "This woman? I don't know who she is. Who is that? That's not me. I don't care if I was born to this as an heiress. I'm a rigger and a pirate. Marrying a Commodore is already overwhelming but this? Why did I agree to this?"
"You agreed because you love Dwalin beyond titles or histories. And the grand wedding kind of sticks it to anyone who didn't believe in you. I...might have dreamed of getting married but those dreams soured fast in my girlhood. Actually becoming a princess? I am terrified. But...I love Thorin so here I am."
Pretending to fuss with one of the pins in her golden hair, Glaes glared balefully at Laraga and grumbled, "Stop making sense. This will be much easier if I don't like you."
"And here I thought we were already friends."
A knock came to the door. And a maid peeped in, asking, "Are you ready, ladies?"
Glaes hiked her skirts up to slide a flask into the garter keeping up her stocking. Her delicate feet had been slid again into shoes, dainty satin heels that she had definitely and loudly complained about but had been caught by the maid admiring on her feet when she thought no one was watching.
But now she fussed with her skirts to get them laying properly, swishing and hopping with a scowl on her face before she clasped her hands at her waist and managed a smile, "Ready as I'll ever be."
Laraga nodded, nervous as could be but hiding it well, "Let's go."
Her father would walk her to the altar. Both of the Lokka brothers offered to walk their big sister. Not only were Lamli and Laeki ready to walk Glaes down the aisle, but Lady Lokka was waiting at the end, right before the steps to the altar. After six years without her daughter, no one else but her was going to hand her oldest away.
The hall leading to the sacred altar of Mahal, said to be His very first anvil, was packed.
Dwalin stood, his brother beside him, in his dress uniform and trying not to sweat.
The brides entered together. The aisle had been widened and the gathered guests had been packed in to watch the wedding of the generation, even of the century. As they processed down the aisle, the choir chanted the Lay of the Sun and Moon, the song that praised the day when golden sun and silver moon shared the sky.
Thorin, in Durin blue with his Crown Prince coronet that he rarely ever wore fashioned with a single star to signify him as heir to the King's crown of Durin's seven stars, watched the ladies make their entrance. They were both beautiful. And, while he was sure Dwalin was staring at his pirate, Thorin could not look away from his beautiful, golden, gleaming princess of the Sun. This was everything he wanted.
Rolo Byrd escorted his only daughter down the aisle and did not hide just how proud he was. In the first row was her mother, holding a hankie to hide her happy weeping. Lars and Ragnar stood as brides-men for their sister.
The Brothers Lokka looked more handsome than ever in their best uniforms. This was made even more attractive by the wide smiles they both wore as they handed their sister to their Lady Mother.
Dwalin couldn't take his eyes off his bride. She was stunning. Dressed as a starry sky, he was dumbfounded that a woman as beautiful and maddeningly brave as she had chosen him.
Laraga saw her groom and smiled so grandly her cheeks would soon be sore.
Behind the brides came two very proud little princes. Each held a pillow with rings as they strutted up the aisle.
The rings were one thing Glaes had really put her foot down about. She didn't want fancy polished bands inlaid with gemstones and ostentatious designs. That was fine for the silver bands carved with the Erebor raven, wings spread and heart inlaid with a pure, perfect diamond that served as the wedding bands for the Crown Prince and future Crown Princess. No, she insisted on a common metal, brass or bronze, a rough hammered texture, something simple and rustic.
Runomi took her daughter's hands and kissed her cheeks, murmuring once more, "My daughter, you are sure?"
Not trusting her voice, Glaes nodded. And, trusting her daughter, Lady Runomi Lokka took the last few steps to hand the Heiress to the Commodore. Glaes reached for Dwalin, wanting to feel his warm, calloused hand in hers as she joined him at the Anvil. He was so handsome and proud in his uniform and she would have time to appreciate it later, but it was his blue eyes that held her captive for now. She loved this man so much.
The Crown Prince held out his hand for Laraga, unable to even glance at her father, so caught was he in her beautiful smile. She was everything he had ever wanted. This was perfect. Everything was perfect.
The music faded as the families took their seats and both couples were present at the high altar. A priest in copper robes came forward, his beard nearly as long as his robes and a kind smile on his aged face.
King Thrain came forward, dressed in his best court garb, and with the help of his daughter, gave over a symbolic hammer to sit upon the anvil.
"Blessings of the Maker upon you all," the ailing monarch said before taking his seat.
"Welcome, all, to this most joyous occasion," the priest said in a loud and clear voice. "Here, in the sight of family and friends, within the ever caring sight of our Maker and His Consort, we come together to bind these souls in loving matrimony."
Lamli and Laeki poked each other with delighted grins at how their sister, who should have been paying attention to the priest and the invocations and prayers, stood there in her ivory and silver, looking lovingly up at the Commodore. No one who had seen her memorable return to court, and certainly no one who had seen her either as, or in the company of, pirates, would have imagined that that wild girl pretending to be a boy could become so fine and composed a young woman standing at the Anvil to be married.
Crown Prince Thorin was thanking his lucky stars, all seven of them, that he stood here on his wedding day with a woman he loved and not a foreign stranger. Laraga was his partner and his equal in all things and he loved her. While he was sure he would have at least grown to care for and respect a princess bride from another kingdom, he was glad that he was given the gift of a wedding he would cherish.
Her hand in his, Thorin's thumb dragged slowly over her knuckles as he smiled down at her.
Once the prayers and invocations and ceremonial vows had been said - four times over - the time came for the final question.
"If there is anyone with reason that these couples should not be wed, please speak now or forever keep silent."
No one spoke a word.
"Then it is time to bring forth the rings."
Fili came to stand by his uncle, holding aloft the golden pillow. Kili came next to Dwalin and lifted up the deep blue pillow.
"May the grooms place their ring on their respective lady's heart finger."
Dwalin's hands shook as he followed the direction.
That was the first moment Glaes looked away from Dwalin since she had entered the hall. Her amber eyes dropped to watch the rustic hammered ring slide onto her finger. And she smiled, the joy threatening to split her face in two.
Thorin picked up the ring from the golden pillow his older nephew held out to him. Under his fingertips, he could feel the carved raven feathers etched into the metal and he was too nervous to look Laraga in the eye. His raven head bowed and he slid the silver ring slowly over her knuckles to rest at the root of her finger.
Another prayer was said over the rings on each bride's finger. A hymn in honour of Yavanna, wife of Mahal, was sung.
"Just as the Maker's Consort grew the foliage of the world, may you cultivate your love."
A hammer fell on the Anvil, ringing out loud and clear.
"Now, may the brides do the same and place the ring on their man's heart finger."
Fili held up the golden pillow eagerly and Laraga took the beautiful ring from it. Happy tears were finally filling her eyes as she did her part. Once in place she looked at her betrothed with unrepresented joy.
Never once had Glaes trembled or faltered. Running away to become a pirate? Climbing up the rigging during a hurricane? Slashing sails and firing bullets during battle? She was made of steel.
Put a ring on the finger of the man who was about to become her husband? She was terrified. She knew she was gripping his hand too tight and definitely holding the ring too stiffly but she couldn't relax. She could hardly breathe.
Kili seemed to be holding his breath too, from what she could tell, but there was a strange rushing in her ears as her heart thudded between her ribs.
The ring slid onto his finger.
Thorin was smiling. Even the chill of the metal against his skin couldn't stop his pure happiness at wearing this ring and being bound to his woman. He gripped her hand tight and nothing existed but her and her beautiful eyes.
Once more the priest gave a blessing. This time it was over the hands now adorned with rings.
"As the Maker forged us in love, may these rings forge a bond which can never be broken. And when the time comes to rejoin Mahal in His hall, may you find one another again. For He made us in two, always searching for our One. In the name of Mahal and His Consort Yavanna, by the power invested in me as High Priest, I do hereby pronounce you husbands and wives. You may kiss the brides!"
Glaes didn't wait. Her little hands grabbed his uniform coat and she pulled herself against him to press her lips to his.
Dwalin nearly bent in half with the force his new wife exerted to kiss him. And he really couldn't blame her. Their kiss had barely begun and he lifted her clear off the ground, arms tight about her slender waist. His wife! It was too glorious to be true and yet here she was.
Their side of the hall erupted in loud whistles and cheers. Glaes' brothers were exuberant with their cheers, delighted with the happiness their sister had found for herself. And their mother, Lady Runomi Lokka, sat with a small smile on her face and a single joyful tear rolling slowly down her cheek.
When Glaes pulled back from the kiss, she whispered to him, their foreheads nearly touching as he lifted her and held her close, "You've done it, Commodore. You've caught yourself a pirate. For the rest of our lives."
Thorin was more controlled and composed. He cupped Laraga's face in both of his hands, the diamond of his ring glinting in the light of the candles and lamps as he bent his head to kiss his wife, the Crown Princess of Erebor.
Laraga melted into her new husband, the word still too new to fully believe. Her hands gripped his coat lapels, pressing as close as she dared, losing herself in the kiss.
Several courtiers on their side of the grand hall shouted out royal congratulations to the new princess. And King Thrain wiped away tears.
The part of Thorin that wasn't entirely focused on his wife and her kiss and the happiness that was glowing from every pore of her skin, was congratulating himself on the brilliant idea to have this double wedding happen. It was a perfect blending of joy and tradition and new beginnings. And there was an entire feast to get through, too. So he offered his wife his hand so he could turn with her to present themselves as a married couple to the gathered congregation.
And, oh, what a feast.
The grand feasting hall was decked out as much as possible. Garlands flowed from the arches, spiralled down columns and looped at the fronts of the many long tables. Flowers from the hot houses were made into lovely centrepieces. Candles glowed by many armed, silver and gold candelabras. A balcony housed no less than a ten piece orchestra. Guests mingled and chatted before sitting down.
Trumpets heralded the entrance of the newlyweds and the hall erupted in nearly deafening applause.
Up on a dias was the high table. Seats of honour were made for both couples. And the toasts began almost instantly.
A squirrelly gentleman in country fashion stood and gave a touching speech about his friendship with the Crown Prince and sent dear wishes for his happiness with such a pretty wife.
Thorin smiled at his friend, "Thank you, Mr. Baggins, for your kind words and the unfailing, loyal friendship you have provided for me all of these years. My wife and I are honoured by your attendance today. It would be quite a shame if the Shire had been unable to spare you for this grand event."
"The Shire!" Glaes gasped, stifling the sound behind her hand, "He's one of the Shire folk that grows the pipeweed?"
"How do you know about pipeweed?" Her mother murmured the suspicious question to her daughter.
"We always looked through the merchant ships we took to see if they had any barrels of pipeweed we could take. It had a huge resale value when we put in to port," Glaes explained, eyeing the Shire man. "We would be able to trade it for fresh fruits and rare spices and all the expensive things we could find because the traders knew they'd make their profit back. Everyone loves the Shire pipeweed."
The Lord of Dale came up and offered a heartfelt congratulations to his long-time ally. At his side were his two eldest children, the youngest was yet too small for such travel.
The King and Prince of Eryn Galen were next, their blond hair shimmering in the lamplight with their green coats patterned with leaves and vines in an expensive brocade. They offered their gifts and congratulations in soft, perfect courtesies. Eryn Galen and Erebor had had some tense history in the past but both Kingdoms were making an effort to move forward into respect at the very least, if not friendship yet.
After them was a representative from the Dúnedain Rangers of the North. Glaes had heard stories and so had the young princes, but to see one was rare and to have a woman of those tribes come to represent them was a great honour. Her gifts were modest, a simple packet of Northern pigments for the Princess and a box of resin for the sea-faring couple. She bowed again and stepped away from the table. Her charcoal eyes caught the Lord of Dale for one brief moment and King Bard didn't look away from her for the rest of the feast, obvious enough that both of his children teased him about it.
Platters of seafood came out of the kitchens. Stews teeming with fish and crustaceans, boiled lobster with melted butter and herbs, pies stuffed with scallops, baked flounder, roasted pike with root vegetables, the list went on and on. After that came the lamb and rabbits and pheasants and ducks, all the rich meats and savoury spices and wine sauces and gravies. Side dishes of salads and grilled vegetables and potatoes and stewed tomatoes accompanied with exotic spices from far-away lands that Glaes recognized from her time pillaging. Saffron and clove and white pepper and turmeric filled the air with their aromas and the Ranger was seen to crack a smile.
Lady Lokka was heard to tell her new Commodore-in-law that even though there would be glasses waiting with the wedding champagne, she had always found that it tasted better when licked from another's skin. A fact that sent her daughter howling with laughter and her sons coughing up their wine.
Princess Sigrid of Dale finally dragged her father over to talk with the Ranger and was heard to inform her, "My name is Sigrid, I am the eldest of my siblings, and I am nine years old."
"So you are," the Ranger woman smiled, "My name is Orla."
A third course made its way out. Little dishes of palette cleanser, champagne ice, preceded the next indulgent service. This one was full of the earth's bounty. Salads and winter vegetables in an array of styles from soups to spicy dishes from Rhûn. Entire pumpkins were settled on the tables, filled with stewed and spiced root vegetables in a hearty sauce. Thorin served Laraga a ladleful of the Eastern curry and followed it with a salad of greens and dried autumn fruits.
Glaes remembered Micoz telling her about the curries and flatbreads of his homeland and she felt a single pang of homesickness for the crew and the open water. She used her spoon to scoop up some of the curry sauce to taste, wondering if this recipe would be authentic enough to satisfy her Easterling friend or if he would claim it was nothing like the cooking of his home.
She missed him, she allowed herself to feel that pain for a moment. She missed him and she missed her boys, the cabin boys and riggers that she had helped teach. She had loved them and she had thought they had loved her. But she wasn't likely to see them again. This was her present, her here and now.
Laraga's coughing brought her back to herself and she laughed down the table, "Can't handle your spice, Crown Princess? I have an Easterling friend who I'm sure would say this isn't hot enough."
"Not everyone had access to such adventurous foods, cousin," Thorin said with his own laugh.
Laeki was sniffling and wiping his nose and Lamli teased him, "Crying over a wedding? How sentimental."
"No," Laeki complained, "These fucking peppers!"
The tower of cake made in honour of the Commodore and his new Lady was quite a sight. A rum cake, no less than six tiers high, had to be carried in by four servers. It was decorated with candied fruit and extravagant icing. White frosting was piped in delicate scrollwork all over. Sea creatures, anchors, all manner of nautical iconography covered the cake. And the topper was a work of art; a highly detailed ship made of pure sugar sat on a wave of candied blueberries.
Glaes leaned in to her husband and whispered, "I heard a ridiculous amount of rum went into this cake. Do you think we can get the children drunk off of dessert?"
The cake that followed, for the Crown Prince and Princess, was more understated but still impressive. A grand fruitcake, baked in an ostentatiously large bundt pan, had an indigo jelly in the centre to symbolise the sapphire of the engagement ring, and the outer sides of the cake were decorated with spun sugar and icing in the shape of a crown with rock candy crystals set into the points to symbolise the seven stars of the Crown of Durin.
Once the first, ceremonial, pieces of cake were cut and shared by the couples, the bakers stepped forward to cut and serve the rest of the cakes to each and every person who wanted some. King Thranduil and Prince Legolas whispered to each other about the quality of the Erebor fruitcake but they ate their slices politely. Orla took a slab of rum cake and her first bite sent her brows shooting upward at the amount of rum she could taste. The contingent from Rohan thoroughly appreciated the rum cake even as the delicate nobles from Gondor gasped and coughed discreetly, requesting the fruitcake instead at the first whiff of the vapours from the rum cake.
The eighth bell sounded and Thorin rose, impressive and imposing, his hand lifting to personally undo the first button of his waistcoat.
"My lords and ladies, royal guests and esteemed visitors," he said in his low, rich rolling voice, "In a tradition old as this kingdom, one that many of your lands share, it is time for the closest lords and ladies from our families and households to escort us to our marriage beds. In the time of my grandfather, the consummation was witnessed. In this more civilised time, we are left at the bed and it is...trusted that we will satisfy."
A ripple of laughter spread through the hall and Glaes' eyes were glinting, her hands hungry already.
The couples were hoisted up by these four groups, even the musicians joined in to provide song for the joyous occasion. As they made their way through the halls, articles of clothing were removed from the four lucky souls. Now there were people assigned to pick up the garments, lest they be trampled. This was a more civilised time, as the Crown Prince had said.
To the Fundinul suite went the Commodore and Miss Lokka. To the Crown Prince's wing went the royal couple. By the time both couples were deposited in their respective rooms they were in naught but their undergarments.
Glaes, left in her stays and chemise, turned to face her Commodore, the ribbons and pearls gleaming in her hair, the pearl dust glimmering on her skin.
She didn't say a word. Finally he had her in his chamber, nearly in his bed, and she waited to see what he would do, her eyes glinting as she feasted on the sight of him, bare-chested and muscled. Her breast swelled with her slow, deep breath.
Dwalin did not mind in the slightest that an over zealous lady had removed his shirt, less clothes to deal with now. He stalked closer to her, blue eyes raking over her barely clad form. With the golden light of the fully stoked fireplace that made her chemise transparent, he could see every dip and curve of her luscious body.
"Shall we skip the formalities then?"
And with that he scooped her up into his arms and sealed his lips over hers. Glaes threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Finally, she could have him. Finally, he would slide himself deep inside of her and she would be his. Already she was shivering in his arms, the hungry look in his blue eyes already sending desire curling in her core, hot and yearning.
Dwalin tossed her onto the bed, their bed. Quickly he followed, covering her far smaller body with his own. Heated lips found every inch of skin he could. His hands caressed her slim, yet strong legs. And when he wanted, no needed, more of her he started to tug at the front lacing of her stays.
"I have been dreaming about this for months," he growled and pulled the stiff garment free. Then he was free to swoop down and suckle one nipple through the silky fabric of her chemise.
Finally he was on top of her again, so different from the first time on his deck when he realised the truth about the little rigger. Her hands, instead of punching him, held him closer. Her legs wound around his hips. Her spine arched to press her breast more firmly against his mouth. Her head fell back as she groaned his name.
His hips slotted between her thighs, grinding down so she could feel just how hard she made him.
"Glaes," he growled in reply to her pretty little moan. Large hands gripped her hips tight, moving her in little motions imitating the dance to come.
Glaes' hips rolled under him, following his guiding touch, grinding up against his shaft and her lashes were already fluttering at the warmth and weight of him atop her, against her, pressing and pinning her down, willingly helpless, beneath him.
Her cheeks flushed, her hands raked nails down his broad chest, the shifting of her body under him bringing her shift creeping up her legs to bare her thighs. His hands tugged it roughly up, pulling the fabric over her head and he took a moment to drink in the sight of his little wife, naked at last under him. A shadow of a thought rose, a whisper of a voice asking if she had looked at Captain Drake with that much want but he silenced that thought with another kiss, feeling her little fingers tug at the fastenings of his breeches.
"There's that nice, expensive bottle of Gondor champagne over there," she breathed against his lips. "Let's see if Mother was right."
He laughed even as he reached for it, popping the cork and letting the foam splatter across her breasts for him to lick up. It tasted even better coming from his woman's skin. He didn't care if any spilled, all he wanted was to indulge them both.
Another pour and a few bubbly rivers flowed between her legs. He took his time licking his way there, teasing her inner thighs for a while before giving her sex the first touch of his tongue. She groaned, savouring the feel of him touching her and caressing her and tasting her. His kiss to her sex brought a delighted gasp to her lips and her thighs parted further to offer more of herself to him. This was so affectionate, so loving, so truly sensual and deeply passionate that she didn't know what to do. If he had thrown her down and ravished her, she would know how to take part in that. But this was so heartfelt and real and special that she finally understood why he wanted to wait.
He growled between her legs and her hips pressed against his mouth, almost overwhelmed by the passion of his feasting. Her toes were curling already, her legs pushing wider as she bared herself to him, chanting her approval with wild, ragged, "Yes, yes, yes," over and over.
One hand gripped his shoulder to keep him there, nails biting into his skin as she started to feel the building pressure of her release. She snatched the bottle and took a swig of the champagne herself, her breaths coming faster and sharper with her growing pleasure. She was a pirate and she was nothing if not a hedonist.
Glaes felt his finger slide into her and the moan that fell from her lips was obscene, her nails biting into his skin again as he tortured her. She tried to stay relaxed, tried not to tighten around his finger in her need to feel him deeper within her. She knew he was going to be big, she had felt his hardness as he had ground himself against her and knew he was going to stretch her open.
She wanted him to shove so deep inside her she couldn't tell where he stopped and she began. But she twisted her free hand in his hair, letting the bottle nestle against the pillows as she held him her prisoner. Her moans were needy, petulant sounds as he worked at her, "Please, please, please…"
He sucked at her and her spine arched so violently it took her off the mattress with her ragged cry of pleasure. His second finger stretched her open and she moaned, her muscles tightening as he worked her mercilessly. And she started swearing under her breath, unladylike curses as he fucked her open with his fingers alone, his tongue driving her closer and closer to her release.
"Dwalin," she gasped, half plea, half command, "I swear...Ulmo drown you down there if you don't...don't...oh, don't stop, don't stop!"
His tongue dragged against her bud just so and she tightened, holding her breath as he did it again and again and if she didn't come right now she was going to die. One, two, three more swipes, two sharp thrusts of his fingers and she shattered into ecstasy, her climax tearing through her nerves like white hot lightning. Her scream of release echoed in the chamber as she arched violently, her head slamming against the pillows.
Breathless, she looked at him with glittering eyes and flushed cheeks as he crawled up her body. Her hands gripped his waist to haul him closer against her. She could taste her release on his mouth, on his tongue, and her legs wrapped around his hips to keep him trapped in her arms as he kissed her.
He gripped her hips and twisted, rolling and pulling so that now her legs straddled his hips, her hands braced against his chest even as he looked up at her and asked, "Ride me?"
"Only if you promise to slam me against the wall of your cabin tomorrow on the ship," she said coyly, "And tie me to the bed. And pin me under you like that first day we met. And…"
Before she offered her next thought, she rolled her hips to slide herself onto his hard member. Her eyes lidded with the delicious stretch of him deep inside of her, a low moan sliding from her lips before she continued, "Make me forget that ihe/i ever touched me."
She settled her hips on him, sliding down onto him completely, her hands on his muscled stomach to keep her balance as she bit her lip.
"I promise," he growled. By the end of the night she wouldn't remember a damn thing about that worm touching her. And he would give her whatever fantasy she wished for.
He was thick and long, thicker than Drake had been and about the same length. Where Drake had been able to push deep into her, her husband stretched her open with his girth. And she loved it. She moaned shamelessly with every stroke, every drag of his shaft against her inner walls, and her core tightened with the hedonistic pleasure of him within her.
She caught his hands in her grip, her little hands tight around his wrists as she forced him to touch her breast and stroke her waist. His hands where she wanted them, she set about fucking him faster, taking longer strokes and forcing him deeper as she snapped her hips down mercilesly around him. She braced her hands on his chest and she rode him hard and fast, her nails biting little crescents in his flesh as she chased her ecstasy again.
Dwalin moaned as her nails bit into his skin. He liked some pain with his pleasure, she was playing him like a damn drum. His hips moved under her, matching the harsh pace she set.
"Fuck, Glaes," he moaned.
One of her hands covered his on her waist and between her sighs and moans, she managed, "I'm not going to break."
And to prove her point, she changed the angle of her riding, sinking down on him and rocking her hips in quick, sharp movements so his shaft, buried to the hilt within her, massaged her walls as she ground herself down on him mercilessly. The press of his member against that spot within her was bringing that white hot pleasure spreading through her limbs, slowly building in her bones and buzzing under her skin.
Her head fell back as he ground himself up into her and she let out a raw, ragged cry. She gave up trying to control herself or her tempo, just chased her pleasure with whatever felt the best. She groaned, one hand snaking down to brush her nub. A half-dozen broad swipes and she was gasping. Her body locked tight, muscles tightening, pace stuttering as the heat bloomed and exploded through her with the force of a hurricane.
Dwalin sat up, holding Glaes still as he continued to thrust up into her. He chased his own climax, desperately pushing his body closer and closer to emptying his seed within her. Her arms wound around his neck to hold on, her lashes fluttering as he thrust harder and harder into her.
"Yes," she mumbled against his neck as she pressed her brow against the curve of his shoulder, "Dwalin...Dwalin..."
Dwalin lavished her throat and shoulder with open mouthed kisses. He would never get enough of her.
"Glaes, my Glaes," he panted her name like a prayer. When he came it was with a moan so loud it bordered on a roar. He kept pumping into her through it all, filling her with his seed.
Glaes collapsed on his chest, breathing hard and still shaking with her pleasure. She pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart and curled into him, still managing to tease, "Well, Commodore, you've gotten your Mrs. Commodore. And after tonight maybe you'll get a Commodore-in-training too."
"If not tonight," he grinned, wrapping her in his arms as the sweat cooled on their skin, "Then maybe tomorrow when I pin ye tae the mast, or tomorrow night when I tie ye tae my bed. Or the day after tomorrow when I-"
"I get the point," she laughed, sealing her mouth over his, "You want me round and indulgent with your child growing inside of me."
"I want ye free forever," he reminded her, "I want tae be by yer side, children or no. A honeymoon on the seas is my way of reminding ye of that."
"You'll never let me forget it," she purred, letting herself relax against him.
"Never."
Laraga was beautiful in the soft golden lamplight, the light catching in her hair and turning some strands to metallic copper. Thorin crossed to her slowly, taking his time to soak in the sight of his wife. His hands lifted to cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, before bending his head to kiss her softly.
He stroked her arms, from her shoulders down to her wrists and back up again, "I promised you we would take this at your pace. So, you take the lead, my love. I will do nothing to make you uncomfortable in this."
True to his word, he stood still, letting her touch him if she wished, kiss him again if she wished, undress him if she wished. He had all the patience in the world to make this moment perfect.
He was a good man, when he gave his word he meant it. But it was still shocking to her that so much power had just been given to her, with nothing expected in return. So she began slowly, running her hands over his broad shoulders, down to explore his chest and hard torso. As her hands roamed, she felt a little bolder, and stood up on her toes so she could leave tender kisses along his throat.
Thorin gave a low hum of encouragement as she touched him and pressed her kisses to his skin. No more movement, no other sounds, nothing to push or pressure her, just a single hum to show her he was enjoying what she was doing. He even turned his head slightly to give her better access to his throat for her kisses.
She liked the sound he made. She liked it because she was doing something right and the fact that that sound was only for her. Already she wanted more. Her soft hands slipped under his shirt, eager to feel the hot skin beneath. Eventually her lips found his again, her arms wrapping tight around him. Oh so lightly she drew her nails down his back.
Thorin's hand flexed slightly at the scratch of her nails and his blue eyes slammed shut. It was taking a lot of self-control not to take her in his arms and crush her to him. But he forced a breath to stay composed and he opened his eyes again slowly to look down at her as he pulled back from the kiss to feast his gaze on the sight of her before him.
His voice was rough and ragged, low and needy as he groaned, "Laraga..."
Her name had never sounded so beautiful. It sent warmth and shivers throughout her body. And stole the breath right out of her.
"Help me get out of this?" She asked, begged really, and brought his hands to the laces of her stays. It wasn't enough just to touch him, she wanted to feel his bare skin against her own.
He picked at the bow, slowly dragging the laces free, picking each row of laces slowly more and more loose. He took his time, loosening the stays patiently, freeing her from the boned support and lifting the stays over her head. And he told her, "Your shifts won't survive long in our marriage. I will be only too happy to tear them from your body."
Later, when she was more comfortable with him and more confident in herself, he would think nothing of catching her up in his arms and bearing her to bed himself. But he did not want to frighten her so he took her hand and tugged her gently with him, escorting her to bed the way he would escort her out to the ballroom for a dance.
He handed her up the stepstool to get her onto the raised royal bed and, as she got herself comfortable, he pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside, along with the ribbon keeping his hair restrained. His raven locks spilled over his shoulders as he waited for her to tell him she was ready for him to join her.
Her pace. The entire night would be at her pace, so he had sworn and so he would keep his word.
"I want to feel you, husband," she whispered. And oh she did. Fingers carded through his dark hair, ran across bare flesh, she couldn't get enough of touching him, taking his hands and drawing him up and onto the bed with her.
"You will," he promised her. But he sat back on his heels and took his time. Too many men had touched her with pain and with evil intent. He had sworn she would learn from him what pleasure could really be and he would not go back on his word.
So he began with one leg, slowly running his palm up from her ankle, smoothing up her calf, his fingers trailing behind her knee to bend her leg. His head dipped to press kisses to her knee and the very beginning of her inner thigh. No higher, nothing else, he wanted her to feel how a man's touch could be good. He repeated the same gesture with her other leg, a slow caress, soft kisses, tender touches.
"But do not rush through this. This is almost as important as what comes next for it will make the next actions all the sweeter once you are relaxed."
He heard her little sounds of pleasure as he focused his attention on her inner thigh and he returned to her thighs, dragging his fingertips along the outside of her thighs up to the curve of her hips, letting his warm palms creep under her shift to caress her skin. And his mouth rubbed kisses to the inner curve of her knee and up to the middle of her thigh.
He inhaled the scent of her arousal and even as he stirred in his breeches, he did not allow the lust to take over. He continued his slow, lazy exploration of her body, jumping from her thighs to press kisses to her hip joint, skirting her sex and slowly pushing her shift up so he could lavish attention on her stomach. His fingertips traced the curve of each of her ribs, following the curve of her waist up to brush his thumbs along the underside of her breasts.
Her shift was pushed up far enough that nothing was left to the imagination now.
"Take it off me, please?"
Thorin shushed her softly, "Relax. Just trust me."
He kept the shift where it was, still covering her breasts, and he let his fingers trail over her nipples through the cloth, "Even this can be pleasurable."
His thumbs circled her nipples gently before continuing up to smooth his touch across the lines of her collarbone, alternating between stroking her through the cloth and slipping his fingertips underneath the neckline to tease at her soft skin.
"I agreed we'd go at your pace," Thorin murmured, his blue eyes watching his hands as he caressed her, "But you are still wanting to rush. Let me worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped."
She gasped as her nipples pebbled under his touch. Every little caress sent heat right between her legs. Not once in her life had she ever desired intimacy so much.
Thorin stroked and petted and caressed her to his satisfaction and once she was suitably relaxed and soft and pliant under him, he gripped two handfuls of her shift, right at the neckline and tore it from her body.
His body covered hers, warm skin to warm skin as he pressed open mouthed kisses to her throat, down her collarbone, down to her breasts to roll his tongue across her nipples.
"Oh, my princess," he groaned against her, a rough purr of pleasure as he allowed himself to indulge in her skin.
Laraga shuddered as her last garment was literally torn away, just as he promised. And she wasn't shivering in any kind of fear, instead she found that she liked the action.
"Thorin," she moaned his name as a hot mouth covered her tender breast. Small hands roamed as much of his bare form as she could. Her spine arched as he teased her with his tongue.
Slowly, Thorin let his weight press against her, let her feel him on top of her, not to hold her down and take what she didn't want to give, but the comforting press of a lover who could take care of her. And he rolled his hips against her so she could feel what, exactly, would be taking care of her. He could smell her arousal on the air, feel the heat of her pressed against him, and he exhaled sharply to keep himself contained. But still his tongue laved against her flesh and he let his hands slide down her waist to caress her hips.
He held her tight and rolled his hips against her again, teasing her sex with what she wanted. But he slid his hand between their hips to press the pad of his finger against her bud. Her pleasure came first.
"Oh!" A spike of pleasure shot through her at this new touch. Yes, she had attempted to touch herself before but had either been interrupted or gave up. This was new. "Do it again?"
"As much as you want," Thorin murmured against her breast, his finger softly, gently massaging her pearl. He pulled his hand away for a moment to lick his fingers before brushing them against her pearl again, a slow pattern of gentle strokes to tease her pleasure out slowly but surely.
Laraga whimpered and writhed as the heat built between her legs. She had never felt so good before and he kept pushing another pleasurable wave over her. Her hips canted to meet his hand, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Yes, my princess," he murmured, letting his thumb continue to circle her bud as his middle finger slid slowly, patiently past her lower lips and into her slick channel. "Don't resist it."
His finger crooked up, looking for that special spot, and his other hand massaged patterns into her hip as he worked her towards her release. She swore stars flared in her vision when his fingertip brushed that magic place inside her. She gripped the sheets, and nearly tangled her legs in them as she spread them wider. She felt the dam break and she threw her head back as that final wave of ecstasy overcame her at last.
Thorin coaxed her through the waves of her pleasure, tending to her gently as he watched her ride her climax out, trembling and sighing beneath him. And when he let his finger slip from her sex, he brought it up to his mouth to taste her and the ragged groan that rumbled from his chest was obscene.
He looked her in the eye and slid down her torso. He wasn't finished with her pleasure yet. His raven head bent and this time when his tongue flicked out, it was to press warm, gentle licks to her bud, easing her down a little bit before he set about bringing her up to climax again.
"Thorin, what-?" And her question was cut off with a shuddering moan. His mouth, between her legs! She had only read about such a thing in the erotic novels she had read in the week before her wedding. Clearly he enjoyed it as well.
The tip of his tongue massaged little circles around her bud as he feasted on her. Little flicks were interspersed with broader swipes with the flat of his tongue to help them figure out what she liked best. His arms looped around her thighs to hold her still, hold her against him as he savoured every little cry, every gasp, every little oh of discovery that she gave.
Laraga's moans filled the bedchamber and if she could think clearly she might have been embarrassed at the sound. But all she could even consider was her husband feasting on her sex.
A particularly harsh jolt hit as he lapped at her nub sent her crying out. She bit down on her fist and threw out a hand to grip the sheets until her knuckles turned white. Already so sensitive, she was moving fast towards another orgasm. Her toes curled and her thighs began to quake as the pressure built yet again.
Thorin continued his assault, blue eyes flicking up to watch her face as he dragged his tongue against her again and again. He had picked up what she seemed to respond to the best and he repeated the action, testing different speeds and pressures, driving her relentlessly toward her release, savouring the cry she gave as she came against his tongue.
He coaxed her through her pleasure and slowly sat up, crawling over her to press his lips to her collarbone and to her throat, smearing her fluids across her skin as he kissed his way up to her mouth. A smile curved his lips as he soaked in her pleasure. And he kissed her briefly, pulling away only to shed his breeches and stroke his shaft to full attention.
"My love?"
Laraga enjoyed watching her magnificent husband fully undress. Broad, barrel chested, his taut skin dusted with dark hair, and he was hers. Her eyes trailed over him in his entirety, including the long, thick member in his hand.
"Yes," she breathed. Reaching out in curiosity, she wrapped her own hand around him and gave a little squeeze.
Thorin gritted his teeth, suppressing the grunt that threatened to slide free, his eyes snapping shut for a second as he breathed a sharp exhale. "Laraga. My wife. Please...may I...?"
There was no eloquent way to say what he wanted to do. He wanted to slide deep inside her and fuck her into ecstasy. And... maybe...maybe plant a child within her. He had thought about this more and more as the wedding approached. A child. A child with his blue eyes and her red hair. Or his dark hair and her green eyes.
But Laraga swelling with his child? The thought sent a flash of lust to his organ.
He crawled back onto the bed, "Laraga..."
There was so much want and desire in his voice, in his striking eyes, that it took her breath away. Her legs spread, both thighs and sex glistening with the proof of two climaxes and yet still more arousal. All for him, if he would claim her. And oh she wanted him to. Desperately. Nothing before tonight mattered.
He didn't say a word. He just covered her with his body and, with a roll of his hips, he pressed his manhood the first inch into her. He was no beast to slam himself all the way to the hilt in one thrust but it was a near thing when he could finally have Laraga the way he had wanted.
"Either relax," he growled to her, his fingers digging into her hips as he flexed his muscles and pushed another inch into her, "Or hold on."
Her soft hands gripped those strong shoulders, and she let her legs fall as open as she could manage. Already he was stretching her, and for once it felt good. Every little bit more which filled her up brought a whimper and a moan. All the while her eyes locked with his, she wanted to look at him when they finally merged as they were always meant to.
She was so brave, so willing even after all the hurt she had suffered at the hands of men. He loved her so much it hurt but he would not take this from her.
With a slow roll of his hips, he slid deep into her. His head fell forward, raven hair falling down upon her shoulder and breast as he sheathed himself and let out a groan of satisfaction. He waited, patience slowly fraying but determined to take care of her.
The Crown Prince waited the span of five deep breaths, giving her the chance to stretch and adjust around him. Then, slowly, he pulled out, a long drag of his member within her before sliding inside.
He was no wild boy to think of his pleasure now that he was within her. He was determined to make this as good for her as possible. But he was a quiet lover, he said nothing back to her as she whispered endearments, he barely heard them, so focused was he on the feel of her wrapped around him.
He set a gentle, firm pace, long strokes at even depth to get her used to him. Every time he filled her pulled a moan from her parted lips. Laraga had to learn his pace, he didn't demand her body, instead he seemed to savour her. When she began to move with him, hesitant at first and then quickly becoming comfortable, a new layer of pleasure came over her.
His eyes closed as he lost himself in the slide and glide of his member within her. One hand stayed at her waist as the other cupped her cheek, fingers tangling in her hair as his mouth pressed a kiss to her brow, covering her with his body.
Laraga gasped as his motions grew more ardent. Already he had brought her to climax twice, she was astounded that she could feel that building for a third time. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him as close and deep as possible. Her nails drew down his back. His name was all she could utter, other than moaning.
He heard her and his grip in her hair tightened. His other hand caught hers and pinned it to the pillows by her head, fingers entwining together as he braced himself on his elbows.
Changing the angle of his thrust, he ground up into her to seek that special spot within her that would make her see stars. And the exertion was bringing sharp grunts from his throat as he picked up his pace, the slick embrace of her sex enveloping him and building his own pleasure.
"Thorin!"
Thorin didn't speak, he didn't feel the need to waste air on words when his actions could do the work for him. He varied his pace, hard and deep thrusts interspersed with quick, sharp presses against that spot within her. He ground into her, finding what made her cry out the most and sticking with that as he drove her relentlessly toward another release.
He wouldn't be far behind her, with her cries spurring him on and the feel of her flesh against his jolting between his legs as his own ecstasy grew.
When her third climax washed over her, Laraga's eyes shut tight. Her back arched. The legs wrapped around her lover quivered, toes curled, and dropped to the mattress.
A long, indulgent cry filled the room.
The tightening of her release and the cry of her pleasure was what he needed. His blue eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowing as he held her down and gave three more stuttering pumps of his hips, his climax hitting him like a punch to his gut as he spilled his seed inside his wife.
Two lazy strokes to eke out his last little drops of pleasure, and he pulled from her body, sliding from the bed to cross to the wash basin and take up a cloth to wipe himself clean. A second cloth he brought back, running it slowly, lovingly, over her skin to catch the sweat and seed that covered and dripped from her. Once he had cleaned her tenderly, he rejoined her, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair as they came down from their pleasure together.
She lay there, her breathing slowly matched his, and she quietly twisted her fingers in his long hair.
"That was wonderful," she sighed, a smile on her face.
"Good," he said softly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, "It was meant to be. The first in many lessons that pleasure is a gift freely given and should be enthusiastically enjoyed."