Tags:
Fiction,
Romance,
Historical,
Fantasy,
Adult,
Short-Story,
Medieval,
Erotic,
menage,
mfm,
Warriors,
threesome romance,
Bethrothed,
Knighthood
many beautiful and valued gifts to present our sacred queen,” he bowed his head, adding as he stared deep into her eyes, “First, though, we hasten to offer you a special token—one that is perhaps our most meaningful and personal.”
A shocked Astrid took in her breath as her golden-haired warrior swooped inward to erase all distance between them, pressing his full, moist lips tight against hers for a warm, affectionate kiss.
Immediately mirroring the actions of his brother, an emboldened Magnus himself surged forward and seared her gaping mouth with a second kiss; his a bit harder and hotter as the combined force of their affections served to steal her breath.
For a moment Queen Astrid stood frozen in her place, a wave of unbidden heat suffusing her being as she experienced the after effects of the heartfelt gesture that felt more like a sensual advance—making her heart and pulse race in one accord as she clutched her hands before her.
“Aye, if two simple kisses serve to ignite me to such a dramatic and alarming degree, then I really do need to get out of the longhouse more,” she mused in silence, adding aloud, “Ye have kissed the queen.”
Eirik frowned.
“We mean no disrespect,” he reassured her, he and his brother watching her face for some sign of a reaction.
They exhaled moments later, as their beloved Queen Astrid found cause to grace them with her warm signature beam.
“No disrespect taken, Gentlemen. In fact, I quite like it!” she praised them.
Lurching forward with a purposeful air worthy of her royal station, Astrid blessed both of her guardsmen with brisk but warm kisses; once again tasting their full, sumptuous lips as they murmured their encouragement—intermingled, she couldn’t help but notice, with a wee bit of complete and utter shock.
“Do feel free to kiss me again, anytime you like,” she urged them, adding as she squared her broad muscled shoulders and lifted her sturdy chin to most commanding effect, “I hereby decree, as a matter of fact, that you each grant me one kiss upon your return from every queen-appointed journey. For the remainder of your natural lives.”
The brothers guffawed outright.
“Oh my queen,” Magnus assured her, swinging her hand in his, “If you so choose, my brother and I have so much more to offer you than mere kisses.” He paused here, adding as he stared deep into our eyes, “Some gestures of tribute, my queen, are best performed in private—so that you can feel free to lose yourself in the feelings and sensations that they may produce.”
Astrid’s eyes flew wide as she considered this notion, trembling outright as her psyche flooded with unbidden images of some erotic art that the brothers had secured for her on their last journey to Paris. Suddenly she pondered the illicit images captured in vivid, illustrious watercolor on a brass framed canvas; visions of beautiful, passion struck couples entwined in various intriguing positions, on luxurious silk clad beds, sandy bronzed beaches, and in the expanse of dew-kissed meadows that shone bright emerald in the light of the sun.
It had been so long, she mused, since she’d known the type of exquisite ecstasy captured and conveyed in that forbidden artwork--since she’d even felt the touch of a man. It was an idea she often pondered, though, as she lay still and alone in her bed each night.
“It is an idea that I perhaps ponder too much. And one that I should not be considering while standing at the dead center of my royal feasting hall, in the presence of all my warriors and consorts—not to mention all of the grey-haired matrons that I see each week at temple,” she mused now, blinking hard as she asked of her warriors, “Gentlemen, could we please cease kissing for just one moment—and could you lend me the free use of my hands—as I call for the commencement of our royal feast?”
Moments later the queen joined her guardsmen at the center table in the feasting hall; a