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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: Persuasion Pairing: m!Eivor x fem!Reader x Alexios Rating: M Summary: It takes both Eivor and Alexios to convince you to join them on their summer raid to England. Blame @mrsragnarlodbrok for this filth. ❤️

THE WATER IS warm and relaxing after a long day’s hunt, but the reprieve is interrupted by a messenger from the south named Ragn. He brings word from Eivor Wolfsmal —a summons to meet and discuss plans for the summer raiding season. The arrival of the raids means good plunder for those who partake, but for your people, it means the time to start planting rocky fields and making stores for the next winter is nigh approaching too.

There is a reason your people have not gone a viking in so long —the winters are growing longer and colder, and you cannot risk losing the menfolk, else everyone starve. But Ragn tells you Eivor has set his sights to the west, to the foretold riches of East Anglia and beyond. You thank him for the message and sink further into the cooling water before calling for one of the members of your vanguard, asking her to call upon your bannermen to prepare for departure. At dawn, you will travel south and meet Eivor of the Raven Clan’s call —for old time’s sake, if nothing else.

It is not an overly long journey south, nor is it a short one traveling across rocky crags and rushing streams. It takes nigh two moons before you can see the walls of Eivor’s settlement rising on the horizon —guarding the dark and frigid waters of the fjord beyond. Horns sound to announce the arrival, and Eivor rides out to meet you and your traveling party. People have trickled in for the last fortnight, and you are among the last to arrive —the one he’s wanted to see the most.

He dismounts his white mare as you slide from the back of your mount too and approaches you with welcome arms and warmth in his smile. The years have not changed him. He is still handsome and kindly as ever. He embraces you, a quick greeting between old friends. “Welcome,” Eivor says, then he spares a moment to look you over from head to toe. He feels as though time has not been as gentle to him as it has to you. “You look well,” he remarks.

You reach out, resting a hand on his scarred cheek, and smile up at him. “As do you.” Eivor covers your hand with his own, fingers curling around yours. He pulls your hand from his cheek and places a quick kiss on your knuckle. You ride at Eivor’s side, your traveling party trailing along, single file with the wagons at the head through the streets, stopping at the heart of the settlement before the great hall. Dismounting, you look around at the wood and stone buildings, noting how much the once small harbor has grown in recent years.

“Come with me,” Eivor says, motioning for you to follow him through the muddy streets to the harbor. You wave to your bannermen, and they disperse among the barracks and market —offloading crates and barrels of goods from wagons and carts for trade. Horns sound again, marking the arrival of three longships bearing white sails with a dark eagle clutching a serpent in its talons. The last of those who Eivor summoned for the meeting.

A man wearing pale brown leathers, a mantle of grey fur, and blue wool disembarks from the arriving longship, drawing back his hood. Most of the gathered Jarls you are familiar with, but this is a new and strange face. One who does not belong so far north. His dark hair is matted into locks shorn at his shoulders and adorned with golden beads —his skin is sun-kissed, and his eyes dark. Eivor approaches the man on the wharf, and they both size each other up in a moment of tense silence. The façade quickly breaks with Eivor’s laugh. “Alexios!” He greets.

Alexios clasps Eivor on the shoulder, smiling. “It has been too long, my friend,” he remarks —dark gaze straying to where you wait beneath an arch of wood and stone. But curiosities can be slaked later; for now, it is time to prepare for the feast.

NINE OF THE eleven Jarls who have answered the call retire for the evening. Their absence leaves you sitting between Eivor and Alexios at the table strewn with overturned cups and empty plates —still unconvinced it’s in your people’s best interests to join the summer raids of an all but unknown land. Too much is at stake for you to carelessly venture west.

“You’ve yet to persuade me, Wolf-kissed,” you note, setting aside your cup. The promise of riches alone is not enough to send men to an early grave. “I have my people I must care for and women and children who will lose their husbands and fathers.” Where others could make do with the absence of menfolk during the warm months, your clan could not —only a handful of men joined the raids each year. Every person contributed to the survival of the whole so far north. “Our winters are longer than yours here in the south,” you remind him.

Alexios regards you carefully, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s not said much this evening, but his dark eyes have been busy —watching. He sees a strong will, a sharp wit, and a gentle heart. The makings of a leader loved by the masses. That’s without considering the respect you commanded from the others who have seen more summers than you. He has to admire that after encountering so many weak-willed leaders in his years.

“Perhaps another drink will help ease your worries,” Eivor says, pouring a fresh cup of mead and sliding it across the table for you to take. Even drunk, you do not think you’d willingly throw away so many lives for the spoils of the summer raids. He’s adamant, though. “I know there are riches and fertile land to the west,” Eivor tells you. “You need not endure the harsh winters if your people can call Anglia home.”

“It’s true,” Alexios supplements, “I’ve been there before.” He has wandered around the world for centuries and knows Eivor and others speak the truth about the land once named Britannia. “Thick forests and rolling green hills as far as the eye can see.” It sounds too good to be true —like a dream. “You see,” Alexios continues, “the true riches lie not in gold or silver, but the fertile earth. There’s more than enough land for your people to make a new home,” he tells you.

“Still,” you say, looking between the two men flanking your sides, “I shall have to think on it.” It is no small thing to ask that you uproot your people on a whim for an uncertain future in a strange land, but perhaps you could join them to see this land and its riches for yourself. Though, it is still something that must be considered without the strong mead fogging your senses.

Alexios leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. He looks past you to Eivor —who seems to be in the same mindset as him. He’s certainly not immune to the charms of a woman such as you, and neither is Eivor, considering the looks he’s shared with you over the course of the evening. “Perhaps we can convince you to join us,” he says, voice gruffer than just moments before.

Eyes flitting between both men, you catch onto the game they’re playing. You’re not one to shy away from such games, and it’s an easy choice to decide to play along with whatever they might be scheming. “And how will you do that?” You challenge, lifting a brow.

“Do you know how to wield a spear?” Alexios asks —you catch the double meaning of his question easily enough. Had any other Jarl asked such a thing, you’d have emptied your cup over their head, but there’s a certain allure and charm to Alexios with his sharp features and tawny-gold eyes.

“I do,” you answer, letting another sip of mead wash away what little inhibitions are left for the evening. “I can skewer a boar and bring a man to his knees,” you note. Eivor knows you can do both with ease —he’s seen you hunt before, knows what it’s like to have you writhing as he fucks you.

“How about you, Alexios? Can you wield a spear?” You query, lifting your cup to hide a bold and enticing smile. He moves as soon as you set your cup on the table, drawing you into his lap, hands instantly finding the ties of your soft gambeson and the pale tunic below —as though he’s been waiting for this moment since first setting eyes on you hours prior. The gambeson slips to the floor, and you rid yourself of the thin tunic without care. His lips are warm and soft against yours when he kisses you, palms pressing flat against your breasts.

He leans down, mouth latching onto your neck with a gentle bite that makes you gasp. Alexios moves down your chest until his lips wrap around one taut nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud and drawing a moan from your traitorous lips. You feel him smile against you —the press of his teeth against your chest in a broad grin. You catch Eivor’s gaze, and the color on his cheeks as your hands trail down Alexios’s chest —you can feel the firm muscles in his abdomen beneath your hands and his half-hard cock pressing into your thigh. He offers no resistance when you start unlacing the ties of his pants.

His cock is thick, heavy, and hot in your hand as you wrap your fingers around him —feeling each rigid vein. You can’t help but imagine the feel of them dragging along your walls as he fucks you. Your cunt tightens at the thought —a shiver crawls down your spine, and warmth pools in your belly. What you’d give to mount him like a stallion —you can already feel the aching burn of him stretching you open. But for now, you’ll settle for this. Alexios’s head tips back. The muscles in his neck tense. You lean into him, lips dragging along his jawline, and when he groans, it reverberates through you both. His breath stutters as you start slow. A teasing, languid pace —letting your entire hand explore him.

Eivor shifts in his chair —you can feel the heat of his stare without sparing him a glance. “You’re awfully quiet, Eivor,” you muse, still peppering kisses along Alexios’s neck and letting his calloused hands explore what skin they can. “Still not over that night?” You tease, breath catching when Alexios nips at your collarbone —the scruff of his beard leaving a burning trail that his tongue soothes. “Must’ve been, what? Four years ago, now?” Eivor does not answer. He won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing how many times the thought of you has kept him warm at night.

Your gaze drops to Alexios’s cock as you give him another long stroke from base to tip. Flushed, thick, and throbbing against your skin. You stop holding back —hand moving faster and wrist twisting on each upstroke— and Alexios cannot restrain himself any longer. He feels a fool for coming undone so quickly, but there’s magic in your touch, especially after a long voyage at sea.

“Is this any way to treat your host?” Eivor japes, and you can hear the bitter jealously in his voice as he watches. “Casting him aside to watch?”

“Come now, Eivor,” you chide. “You’ll have your fun later.” The way you say it, taunting and teasing with your hand wrapped around another man’s cock makes this all seem like a competition. If it is, at least it is a game where you will all be victorious.

“Is this not part of the sacred guest-rights?” Alexios asks, his voice half-strangled from how your hand works his cock but amused too. His body arches into you, pulling you against him, and his lips part as he moans unabashedly. It isn’t loud, but it is guttural and desperate, and it makes your core ache with want. Your hand doesn’t stop working him even as he spills himself over your fingers, drawing out his orgasm for as long as you can until you slow to a stop, and he begins to relax —catching his breath.

But he’s quick to begin taking what he wants. Alexios kisses your neck, moving down your body —the rough pads of fingers trailing along your sides, but it’s not enough. He needs more, wants more, and it’s impulse and desire when he sweeps his arms out, knocking the plates and cups in front of him to the floor. Alexios lifts you from his lap onto the edge of the table —hurriedly pulling at the ties of your britches as you toe off your boots.

Eivor inhales sharply, seeing you bare and splayed out on the table. His tongue darts out to dampen his lips. Memory reminds him of how sweet you tasted and how prettily you’d moaned for him, and he can barely stand the thought of not being the one between your thighs.

Alexios slinks down to look upon his second meal —eager to devour. You feel the stubble of his jaw tickle the crest of one hip and then the other before feeling his breath against your aching center. He kisses the inside of each thigh, then suckles and bites a mark in the same place on each side, laving over the little marks with his tongue. Alexios does not know what will come of this night, though he will leave a lasting impression on you to remember him by for the coming days —and maybe have you coming back to warm his bed on these cold northern nights.

He nuzzles his face against your cunt, inhaling the heady scent —drunk off the smell— and Alexios wrenches an incredulous noise from your throat when his tongue darts out, licking a flat stripe over you, stopping to circle your clit. He repeats the action thrice over, each time adding more pressure —devouring your cunt with attention like a man supping on his last meal, and he will be sure to have his fill. Reaching down, you twine your hands into his dark hair, and he peers up, dark eyes almost black with desire but still shining gold in the firelight. It’s easy to forget you and Alexios are not alone.

His tongue and mouth are insistent but soft, warm, and wet —a practiced lover— and he groans in delight against you when he feels your hips rise from the table and start to roll against his tongue. Alexios thinks himself a simple devotee worshipping at the altar of a goddess.

Every time you make a new noise, it just makes him more voracious —makes his cock stir again, but right now is about you and he’s determined not to stop until you’re shaking. He loops his arms under your thighs and moves his fingers to spread you open farther —letting his thumbs rub up and down your folds, gathering the slick. Then he eases one finger into your cunt, curling, and stroking, then adds a second. It’s devastating —the gentle pressure with each flick of his tongue on your clit— your breath comes in short gasps, chest heaving until it all erupts in slow sparks and smoldering flames.

It's the plummet of a longship’s prowl after cresting a wave when gravity takes its full force. The slow build of heat low in your belly takes to flames fanned by bellows. Alexios curls his fingers just right and feels your body tighten and seize. Your back arches off the tabletop and your ragged cry of ecstasy fill the room as you quiver.

Alexios raises his head, lips and chin glistening in the low light of the empty mead hall. He eases you down, hands stroking the insides of your thighs, and his lips find the skin below your navel before he draws you off the table and back into his lap. You tremble still when he drags the scruff of his jaw over your breasts and clavicles —promptly burying his face into your neck and listening as your heartbeat slows.

Fingers threading into Alexios’s matted locks, you glance at Eivor —his eyes are dark and filled with lust. His breathing is quicker and more labored than it had been during the feast too. Eivor splays his legs open, and you can see the outline of his hard cock through the wool of his britches. You smile for him —knowing it drives him to insanity and jealousy to see you like this because of another man. Alexios’s rough hands slide over your sides and around to your backside, pulling you down and forward against him —so you can feel his cock twitch back to life. A promise the night is not over yet.

But Eivor’s patience has run dry, and he will resign to being a bystander no longer. Rising from his seat, Eivor steps to you and Alexios, tugging your hair and forcing you to look up at him. He cranes down close to your ear and smirks. “My turn,” he rasps, pulling you off Alexios’s lap before scooping you up and over his shoulder and parading through the Great Hall toward his chambers. “Come, my friend,” Eivor calls back to Alexios, “guest-rights would have you take her cunt first.”

Anticipation burns low in your belly as Eivor pushes open the door to his room. Alexios trails a few steps behind —cock half-hanging out of the untied laces of his britches— his hands already fumbling with the ties of his tunic. Then Eivor lets you down from his shoulder and seizes your face in his hands, lips finding yours with burning lust and consuming passion.

You break away, breathless, and start to slide your hands beneath the hem of his tunic, pushing up the coarse crimson wool until he finally rids himself of it. Then your lips trail effortlessly along his heated flesh as you kiss your way from his scarred neck down his chest, then to his stomach, ghosting over the familiar blue-black ink of the runic tattoos accenting his middle. They’re a shade or two lighter than when you last saw him like this.

“Didn’t I tell you you’d have your fun later?” You muse, stopping just below his navel where a trail of hair a shade darker than that on his head begins. His response is a breathy groan as you continue down the path you’d started, falling to your knees in front of him, alas. His hands tangle in your hair as he moans quietly for you, feeling the blood rush as your breath trails dangerously close to the swell of his still-clothed cock.

His jaw clenches in frustration when you slow down, working the ties of his britches. You push the soft leather down his thighs, letting his cock fall free —hard, heavy, and weeping with want. Eivor steps out of his britches, and you press a to kiss his inner thigh, feeling the muscle twitch in anticipation. You kiss his inner thigh and feel the muscle twitch in anticipation. His fingers brush over your jaw, and your lips part to run your tongue across the length of his cock.

You look up at him before circling the head of his cock with your tongue, and he growls, running a hand through your hair affectionately. Your thighs squeeze together, knowing how much he wants your attention makes you feel flushed and warm in the best way. You give him a small smile before you open wider to take the head between your lips and are rewarded with his pleased sigh.

He hisses as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth —can feel the wet of your tongue lapping at him when you hollow your cheeks in. Your eyes are fixed on him, firing with lust as you watch him slowly fall into a haze. His brows furrow, his eyes slip shut, and his mouth parts from the sudden peak of pleasure. He doesn’t expect you to stop so suddenly, though. The aching emptiness between your thighs is enough to drive you mad. You look back at Alexios —he’s bare as you are now, his clothes tossed in a heap at the door, and he’s stroking his cock as he watches.

Rising from your knees, you press your hand to the center of Eivor’s chest, pushing him back toward the bed. He goes without complaint, falling backward into the furs, and you join him, perching on hands and knees —placing a long lick up the underside of his cock before a small sucking kiss on the head and presenting yourself to Alexios for the taking.

Alexios steps up behind you, his hands running over your hips and backside. His fingers dip into your soaked cunt before curling around his cock, stroking himself before pressing into you —slowly, so you can feel each ridge and vein dragging along your walls, filling you. It draws a low moan from you as he bottoms out, then starts thrusting shallowly as you lick a stripe up Eivor’s cock again. You give no warning as you open wide, mouth closing around the head of his cock and slipping halfway down his length. His fingers instinctively yank at your hair, moan cracking in his throat like he’s choking on the sound.

From behind, relentlessly to his snapping hips, Alexios fucks into you. Hard, rigid, merciless through a string of guttural groans and stumbling profanities spoken in a tongue you do not understand. Needy and pitifully pathetic, your aching cunt burns with each thrust, rough pads of his callous fingers digging into the skin of your bare hips. You lay there for him, hands twisted into the fur pelts next to Eivor’s thighs, body jolting and humming with pleasure. You can’t see him, yet you know how he must be —satisfied— and how he must look —chest flushed as incoherent grunts of pleasure bolt his lips.

His thickness splits you inch by inch while he slams in relentlessly, ceaselessly, persistently. Each vein, each ridge, each curve of his cock skidding along the walls of your cunt, driving your body further into oblivion. Alexios’s teeth scrape over your shoulder when he lowers his mouth to your back. One of his hands stays on your waist, anchoring you against him, the other palms your breast, fingers tweaking one nipple then the other. You’re vaguely aware that Alexios and Eivor are saying something to each other, but you’re too distracted by your work to pay attention. You shiver a bit when you feel warm hands come down to grope your breasts, and you let your throat squeeze around him, mind shrouded in a fog of sex.

Alexios looks down at the display of his cock moving in and out of your wet cunt. It’d be a shame not to enjoy what you’re offering in the moment. He leans over you, chest pressed against your back, and kisses your neck —the feel of his hot lips sends a shiver down your spine and makes you clench around his cock. “Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing a handful of your ass to spur you along. You feel the familiar tension blooming in your stomach as he thrusts inside you again and again. The needy little sounds you’re making for him are muffled around Eivor’s cock. Alexios’s bottoming out with every rock of his hips against yours, and this won’t last much longer for either of you —his cock is already throbbing with the prospect of release.

Eivor’s fingers thread into your hair, keeping you against his groin and looking at you like you’re some kind of benevolent goddess. It only makes that heat inside you flare up more. This all feels so good, but you can only offer muffled whines as both of them enjoy your body. You whimper, and the low reverberation and hum of your mouth around his cock is enough to finish Eivor —and you swallow the bitter salt of his seed.

Rough fingertips find your clit, rubbing and stroking until your cunt clamps down tight around his cock, and you lose all sense of focus as the wave of pleasure washes over you —breath reduced to tiny gasps and your thighs shaking. You slump forward, head pillowed on Eivor’s stomach, content to let Alexios work himself to his own finish with your body, and it doesn’t take much time. He comes inside you after a few more sloppy thrusts, cock spasming deep in your cunt, pressed so close against your back you can feel his heart beating fast behind you. The two of you stay together for a minute to get your bearings before he pulls out and steps away.

Eivor’s waited long enough to have your cunt, and he’ll not give you long to recover from how Alexios fucked you. He crawls between your thighs. His eyes hold a certain darkness you’ve never seen before —rooted in jealousy— and his mouth is slightly a gape with his chest rising and falling in heavy heaves. He takes hold of his cock, stroking himself as his spare hand plants to your hip, spreading your legs open wide for his taking. Eivor’s lips quirk into a faint smirk as he guides his cock into you as if to say you’re mine now.

Low and throaty, he hisses to the sensation, eyes momentarily clenching shut to the feel of you as he sinks to the hilt. His thrusts start slow but quicken —he’s thought about having you like this again on many a cold night— cock throbbing and twitching inside you, slipping from your cunt messily each time before plummeting back in. He grunts and curses above you as you plead with sobs of frustration and nigh overstimulation. You’ve never been so well-fucked before.

Your nails dig into his biceps, each thrust presses your breasts tighter to his chest. Eivor dips his head down, teeth scraping over your neck —just above a thrumming pulse. Your body involuntarily reacts, arching into him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer every time he rolls his hips into yours. His fingertips press hard into your thighs, holding you tight against him, and your back arches with jolting shocks. Eivor’s eyes blacken when his eyes glaze over your body —wanton and bare, completely exposed for him, with your breasts bouncing as he rams in, cock burying deep, deep inside you with each thrust.

He grunts, jaw tightened, his pace never faltering. Your cunt pulses and throbs —Alexios’s seed leaking onto the furs below. Eivor breathes your name, face lowering to yours —mead-tinged breath hot against your lips as he quietly growls, teeth barely grazing your jaw. Persistently, he nips at the soft skin of your neck, leaving marks to match those left by Alexios, as if marking his claim too. “Fuck,” he grits, his eyes frenzied and primal, wild as he asserts his dominance —taking what should have been his all along. It’s the way his throbbing cock works your cunt, the way he perfectly fucks you into pure and utter bliss.

Throaty and gruff, he lets out rough moans, breathy and raggedy, and hot as he shudders, sending shivers of wanting down your spine when you know he’s close. Your head tilts back, and you can see Alexios reclined behind you —watching contentedly. With a few particularly harsh thrusts, you yelp in pleasure, ascending another peak, searing your nerves as he continues to fuck into you, chasing his own end. Eivor’s cock hits your end with a halt, a satisfied grumble of his chest rumbling against your breasts as he finds release, filling you with tingling warmth. Then his head falls forward, forehead pillowed on your breasts, and he lets out a breathy exhale, chest hot and puffing from the exertion. Drawing in a long sigh, Eivor slides his cock from you, rolling off to the side.

Shifting, you rest your head on Alexios’s stomach and drape your legs across Eivor’s. He smooths his hand over your calf and turns his head, watching the seed drip from your ruined cunt. Sleep weighs heavily on your chest after the length of days of travel, and now this. It calls sweetly. “Have we persuaded you to go to England with us?” Alexios asks, half-laughing as he runs his fingertips over your stomach and stops to fondle one of your breasts.

“Will the two of you be having me like this every day if I do?” You ask in turn, voice airy —dreamy— eyes slipping shut. Both men exchange a look, and neither will object to such a proposition. You can feel the low rumble of laughter in Alexios and Eivor’s chests. You certainly wouldn’t object to the proposal. Eivor kisses the bend of your knee, and Alexios takes your hand, lips pressing to the center of your palm —each kiss like a promise of what’s to come.

[taglist: @alessyaraven @alexandra-alle @ananriel @callmemythicalminx @certifiedlittleshit @chaotic-spooky @darkravenqueen98 @edelaen @elluvians @erzsebetrosztoczy @finick94 @hc-geralt-23 @idkjj04 @itseivwhore @kitkitvm @ksziggy @letsloveimagines @maximalblaze @missmannequin @mrsragnarlodbrok @novastale @overratedsun @qhbr2013 @queenyalo @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @thedragonqueenfan @theelvenvalkyrie @thepreciouspurrsian @vanillabeanlattes @wallsarecrumbling @withered-poppies @xxdearlybeloved ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor, Alexios, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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