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An Honorable Union Gone Awry

Her husband seems to understand, as that cloak drops, that he has just won this battle. His lips spread wide into another of his toothy, pleased grins, and the Viking's arms fold behind his head once again, allowing him to lean back on the headboard, "Now there's a good wife... show off that pretty body, now." He watches her intently as that cloak - her only real covering from the cold - pools around her feet on the floor.
 
She reaches behind herself and grips the laces to her gown, pulling them out so that it comes loose. The gown ripples around her, drooping. She reaches up to her shoulders and pulls the sleeves of the gown down enough to wear it will fall the rest of the way by itself. That leaves her in her thin silk shift, which she pulls up by the hem and over her head, dropping it to the ground. She stands there naked in front of him, her nipples hard from the cold.
 
He is clearly pleased, but makes no move toward his naked young wife. Instead, he seems to be waiting for her to advance to the bed, forcing her into her end of the terribly unfair deal: she must treat him as the husband of her dreams. Instead, he just leans against the headboard, his arms crossed behind his head, the thinnest trace of a smile across his face, watching Elsa intently as she undresses, blatantly and barbarically admiring her body.
 
She concentrates extremely hard on two things: first, not shaking uncontrollably from both the cold and the same and two, trying not to look like she's concentrating extremely hard. She climbs up into the bed slowly and crawls towards Canute's outstretched body. She hesitates for a moment and then continues to advance until she's right next to him. Elsa lays down next to him, pressing her turned body against his side and resting her head on his shoulder.
 
Canute is apparently not satisfied enough with this, though he does look pleased at the submission of his new wife. He allows her a moment to rest on that big shoulder, before the arm against her body tugs her toward him, that big, shaggy head leaning in to press his lips against her warmly, drawing her in tight against his muscled body.

The one blessing to Elsa is the warmth his naked body offers, radiating even without the heavy fur blankets on.
 
She yelps softly as he tugs her upwards, it was such a jolting movement. She didn't think she would ever grow used to it, even if he did it a hundred times a day. Her eyes grew a little wide when he pressed his lips against hers. She hesitated again, but only for a split second, before pressing her lips back against him. She slung an arm across his chest, hugging him to her. She really did it for the warmth he provided her with, but it looked like an act of affection.
 
Apparently, Canute cannot tell the difference between true affection and a search for warmth. He rumbles deep in his chest, apparently a sign of his approval, and the arm which tugged her upward loops behind her, to scoop her by her backside right into his lap, never breaking that kiss, lips parted and head tilting to one side.
 
She yelps again when he tugs her onto his lap, her legs automatically straddling him. She moves her hands to his shoulders, gripping them gently to steady herself. She continues to kiss him, adding what fake passion she can muster. She even opens her mouth while she kisses him, allowing his tongue to push inside if he chooses.
 
Canute's passion, at the very least, is real. He presses eagerly into that kiss, tongue thrusting against her own, one hand tangling in her hair, cradling the back of Elsa's head, while the other cradles her backside. He holds her body tight against his own as that kiss continues, before he parts it, lips moving along her jawline, her neck, even to the lobe of one ear. His voice rumbles in her ear, "You treat me like a husband, and I can treat you like a wife... not a wench."
 
That was good at least, Elsa thought to herself. Better to be treated like a wife than a wench. She didn't just want to be another girl that he fucked. She nodded to him, her thighs snug around him as she sat atop him. She smiled and kissed his lips softly, "That seems fair," she said in her gentlest and most affectionate of voices. It pained her deeply to act like this, but she would if it meant saving her people.
 
Canute at least sounds pained, though it's a very different feeling he's expressing in his low, long groan, his voice vibrating against her as he presses those kisses along her neck. His teeth nip lightly at the delicate skin, but more noticeable to the princess - and now, the queen - is the press upward against her, the Viking's hips rising to grind against her, emphasizing that low groan.

The hand at the back of her head drops, fingertips dragging along the curve of her spine.
 
She shudders, more from fear than from his fingers dragging along her spine, though she hopes it will appear as if that is why. Elsa knows what he wants. She pulls her neck away from him and looks down into his eyes, doing her best to put on a seductive face as she would for the husband of her dreams. She wraps her arms around his neck loosely, her fingertips touching along the nape of his neck.

"Do you want to play?" she asks softly, her thighs tightening around him as she slides her body down a little lower, her womanhood just inches away from his manhood.
 
He simply seems to go wild over that low, seductive voice, his own voice released in another of those deep, rumbling groans. His shaggy head dips into an eager nod, the hand along her spine falling to cup that curvy backside, squeezing fondly.

His own hips begin to rise, just touching him against her entrance, clearing the gap between them as he growls, "I do, wife. Do you?"
 
Truthfully, no. No, she did not want to play. She wanted him to stop touching her and to go back to his bloody viking homeland. But instead of saying any of this she nodded and kissed him again, softly. "Yes husband, I do." she hesitated for a moment, hating herself for this act, and then pushed herself down the rest of the way, his girth pushing inside of her. He stretched her a little, but her insides her used to him from before.
 
He gasps as she lowers herself onto his rigid shaft, his back arching, hips rising to meet and assist in that deep plunge. His own upward stroke is slow, steady, and long, careful to slip every inch within his wife - and, in fact, his drawn-out gasp extends for most of said thrust. With that, he slips into a slow but steady rhythm, rocking against his wife, "Mmm... now you're ready to be my queen..." He flashes a strained and brief grin.
 
Surprisingly, his sliding all the way inside of her isn't a bad experience. It doesn't drive her wild like it does him, but it certainly isn't like how it was the first time. She begins to move up and down on him slowly, her hands moving back to his shoulders to steady herself. Her moving up and down and his rocking back and forth make the experience actually pleasurable for her, though minimally. Because of this Elsa is able to forget a little of her hate and lean down, giving him soft and affectionate kisses as they move.
 
Canute is acutely aware of her body's more positive response, and takes his time, not resorting to the usual force of his lovemaking. Instead, his slow rhythm remains, head leaning into those soft kisses, returning them with his own. A single hand slides between them, thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple before cupping the soft flesh, squeezing with surprising gentleness for the big Viking.
 
Maybe this would be alright, she thought to herself, maybe she could enjoy a sex life with him and do her best to avoid him the rest of the time if she satiated him in sex. She murred softly when he cupped her breast, the closest thing to a moan he'd ever heard from her. She kept her movements slow as well, her insides slowly becoming wet.
 
He slowly leans forward with her still straddling him, the hand at her backside remaining to hold her steady and facilitate lowering her to the mattress, his lean steadily dropping her to the bed. Suddenly, she finds herself, thighs wrapped snugly around Canute, on the bottom of her husband.

He never breaks rhythm, though, or the contact of that long, deep kiss, tongue entangling itself with her own. The little moan causes his entire body to tighten, muscles straining, quivering with excitement.
 
Elsa had to admit that she was more comfortable with him being on top of her. Should someone happen to burst in on them (which wouldn't happen, but still), she wouldn't be seen as much and it could be consensual or nonconsensual. She wraps her arms around his neck again, pulling him down closer to her. She wasn't sure if she was really going to get anything out of this time, but at least it felt nice, as opposed to the last time.
 
Canute obviously has less concern with appearances; his own motivations are revealed, though, as Elsa finds herself on her back. Canute's own thrusts become noticeably stronger with the added leverage, each stroke taking him deeper within his wife. His breathing is hot and heavy against her neck, but still he holds back his own release, feeling the warmth and wetness between his wife's thighs. It's strange for the Viking to hold back on a woman's account, but he obviously seems to relish in her sudden submission to his will.
 
She begins to wriggle a little, feeling heat rising from her body the faster and harder he went on her. She got increasingly antsy, her arms tightening around Canute's neck. Then suddenly her entire body tensed up and she moaned, her back arching and her hips bucking up against him, she's come. This was her second orgasm with him, the first from when he'd licked her the day before. This one was different, softer and less animalistic, but elating nonetheless.
 
And in the moment of her release, it seems Canute can hold back no more. His entire body shudders and quakes against her, muscles tightening and back arching with one great, final thrust, spilling his seed not with a roar, but a growl through clenched teeth. His body is tight against her as they come together, his arms clutching to her as tightly as she to him.
 
She shuddered when he came inside of her, her inner muscles flexing on his manhood. Wow, she thought to herself, that was better than she had thought it would be. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, as long as he let her keep her affection to when they were going to have sex. Her legs slowly loosened from around him and she wriggled a bit, hoping he would just let her free.
 
It seems, for a moment, as though he'll simply roll off of her and let her be free of him again. Instead, though, he holds himself over her with both arms on either side of her shoulder, leaning down close to plant kisses along her jawline.

His voice is breathed against her in a low growl, "You enjoyed yourself, mm?" He sounds pleased at this.
 
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