Chapter 2

The Bedroom

Liv lay stretched across the bed, nude and relaxed, one leg bent, the other extended lazily toward the edge. One hand rested on her stomach. The other trailed idly across the bedspread.

Her skin was golden and soft-looking, touched by sun and age in the most sensual way. Her waist curved naturally into her hips, her thighs plush and inviting. Her breasts were full and heavy, flawless in their imperfection—slightly soft from time, but high and proud. Her nipples were dusky, plump, visibly hardened. She was pure seduction, between her legs—trimmed neatly, soft curls catching the light.

Her face was just as breathtaking—strong yet tender, framed by tousled, chestnut-brown hair swept up in a loose bun. Her cheekbones were defined, her lips full and calm with a knowing curve. Her eyes held a quiet fire, deep brown and expressive, lined faintly at the corners in a way that only deepened their allure. She looked at you like she already knew your secrets—and would love you anyway.

Nils stood beside her.

Naked. Unashamed. Powerful.

He wasn’t bodybuilder-cut—he didn’t need to be. His frame was massive, dense with real strength. His chest was thick with salt-and-pepper hair. His belly wasn’t flat, but solid—like something that could take a punch and not move. His thighs were wide. His arms looked like they could hold Dag down with no effort.

His face matched the rest of him: rugged, weathered, and unmistakably powerful. Salt-and-pepper hair, cut short, framed a strong brow and sharp jaw. His features were rough-hewn, like they’d been carved by something ancient and merciless. A perpetual stubble lined his jaw and upper lip, accentuating the firm set of his mouth. His lips were full, but rarely soft—usually held in a flat, unreadable line that flickered between disapproval and a cruel kind of amusement. His eyes were steel-gray, cool and controlled, with fine lines at the corners that deepened when he focused. That stare could pin a man in place. He didn’t need to raise his voice or lift a hand. One look was enough to say: you belong to me now.

And his cock—

Hard.

Thick.

Pointed down slightly from the weight of it.

Wrapped in a snug leather strap that looped around the base and under his heavy balls, pushing everything forward, harder, fuller. It looked deliberate. Like a warning.

Dag froze in the doorway, towel clutched like it might protect him.

Nils just stared at him. Calm. Still.

“Drop it.”

You’re Not Ready

Dag stood there, naked, heart pounding. The towel had just dropped.

Nils didn’t move for a moment. Just looked him over, cock already thick and hard, the base bound tight in a black leather strap that made everything stand out fuller, heavier. His voice was low and measured.

“Bend over the bed.”

Dag obeyed.

He placed his hands on the mattress, ass exposed, legs slightly parted.

“Liv. One finger.”

She stood up from the bed and moved behind Dag without a word. Breathless, he didn’t dare turn around. Slick lube coated her fingertips. She rubbed slow circles around his tight hole, then pressed in, letting the first finger slide deep. Dag gasped—his arms tensed. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Her finger stayed buried for a beat, letting him feel the stretch, the helpless ache of being opened. Then she moved—subtle, controlled. Just enough to make him shudder.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice like velvet over steel.

“Add another,” Nils said, his voice still soft. “Stretch him.”

Liv obeyed.

Two fingers now, working in slow, steady rhythm. Dag moaned, head hanging low.

“He’s still tight,” Liv murmured.

“He’ll open,” Nils replied. “He wants to.”

Then he stepped back and looked Dag in the eye. “On the bed. Head in her lap. Legs up.”

Dag moved fast, breath trembling.

Liv was already positioned on the bed, sitting up in the middle of the bed, her legs parted slightly. She guided Dag’s head down into her lap like it belonged there—stroking his damp hair once, then gripping both ankles and lifting them high, spreading him wide for her husband.

Not Even Close

Nils loomed at the foot of the bed, sweat already rolling down his chest. His cock—thick as hell and rock hard—throbbed between Dag’s spread legs. The younger man lay flat on his back, head cradled in Liv’s lap, legs hoisted and held wide by her strong grip.

So pretty. Too pretty, really. That dark blond hair, already damp with sweat, clung to his forehead like he’d been crying—or about to. His pale skin flushed from the chest up, blooming pink across his throat and cheeks. Blue eyes, wide and unfocused, blinked up at the ceiling like he was barely hanging on. His lips were parted, wet, trembling.

He was shaking, breath coming fast, hole slick and twitching—but still clenched tight.

“Relax,” Nils grunted, lining up the head of his cock.

His thick length was already slick with lube, heavy and firm, positioned with calm precision between Dag’s parted legs.

“Stay still,” Nils said.

Dag nodded.

Nils leaned forward, guiding himself to Dag’s entrance. He pushed—slow, measured, not forcing, just letting the pressure build.

The tip slid in.

Dag gasped, full body tensing. His hands clenched in the sheets. His body tried to open—but it wasn’t enough. After barely two inches, everything locked up.

Nils held there a moment, assessing, unmoving.

Then he eased back, slowly, letting himself slide free.

Silence.

Dag’s eyes were wide with effort. “I—I’m sorry—”

Nils didn’t look angry. Just focused. Calm. In control.

“You’re not ready yet,” he said. “That’s fine.”

He reached for a towel, wiping himself off before setting the lube back on the nightstand.

Then he met Dag’s eyes. “We’ll make you ready.”

Liv brushed her fingers through Dag’s hair. “You’re doing good,” she whispered, voice low and thick with heat. “You’re going to take him.”

Nils stood tall, still looming, still hard.

“Training starts now.”

You’ll Open for Me

Nils stood tall at the foot of the bed, cock still hard, hands slick with lube, staring down at Dag—legs in the air, hole twitching, still struggling to breathe after the failed attempt.

“You’ll open for me,” Nils said, voice calm but firm. “Soon.”

He stepped back and nodded once to Liv. “Hold him open.”

She did—effortlessly. Ankles high, thighs wide, eyes locked on her husband.

Nils reached for a small, stainless-steel plug. Sleek. Weighted. He coated it thick in lube, then returned to the bed.

“Mouth,” he said.

Dag opened without hesitation.

Nils spat—slow and wet—right into his mouth.

“Swallow.”