Magnus bumped his front, his cock now soft and exhausted, against my hip. “If ye are a cow, I am the ruttin’ bull.”
“God, you were a lot like that. You were super hot for me right then. I’m embarrassed and you’re all, into me. What did you say that last thing?”
He chuckled. “I said ye taste like milk.”
I batted his arm. “I’m so glad I didn’t know that at the time. I thought you were saying something about being into me not my breasts.”
“I am always intae ye, or want tae be, but now yer breasts are verra large. I canna help m’self.”
“Such a man!”
“Aye, ye canna blame me for it, ye taste like food. Tis like I asked God, I said, my wife, who I love, is verra kind and lets me have m’way with her and she even likes it sometimes—”
“I like it all the time.”
“So I said tae God, she is a verra good wife, can ye please have her breasts taste a bit like cream? And he has answered m’prayers.”
I teased, “Because I am a good wife he has answered your prayers?”
He laughed.
I yawned, smacked my lips, growing sleepy. “Now that I think of it, I kind of like being the answer to your prayers, that’s nice,” and we both grew quiet and slowly fell asleep.
Forty-two - Kaitlyn
“Where is she?!” I scrambled around. It was pitch dark, cold, too cold for a baby. “Where did she go?”
I patted all around. “Magnus! Magnus, Isla is gone!” I patted around frantically in the bedding and up against him and then wildly on the floor. “Where is she? Something’s wrong, she’s not crying, something happened to her!”
“Mo reul-iuil!” Hands shaking my shoulder.
“Where is she?!” Why can’t I find her?
“Kaitlyn! Kaitlyn, ye are havin’ a dream.” My palm felt the cold hard fabric floor of the tent, and it shocked my senses. I burst into tears. “Where is she?”
“She is warm and at home with Emma. Ye will be with her verra soon.” He stroked down my hair and pulled me to his chest.
“My breasts hurt so much,” I sobbed.
He and I both opened my shift to look down, my breasts were inflamed looking. He kissed my head. “Ye hae a fever.”
“Everything hurts.”
He helped me lie down and passed me the towel. I said, “I think some snow might be good, like an ice pack?” He pulled on his parka and boots and crawled from the tent to trudge into the snow.
And I lay there and tried to get milk to come and told my breasts that I was furious at them. They were supposed to be normal — make milk, to just wait, just wait for fuck's sake, wait a minute. We’d get back to Isla.
But they seemed content to want to explode.
After getting a little milk out, I applied some wet cloths that Magnus dipped in a bowl of snow and that felt really good. I lay on the bedding with snow rags on my chest, spread eagle, hazy-brained. Hot and sad.
Magnus said, “Will ye promise me ye winna die?”
Eyes closed, I said, “If I die from this, that would be the worst. Promise me, if I die, you won’t let exploding breasts be on my historical record, make it epic, like I fought a dragon.”
“Tis nae funny.”
I opened one eye. His face was worried. “Oh, my love, I’m sorry I scared you. This is not how I die, this is just one of those body-mutiny moments, I promise. And if you think about it, milk breasts are as old as time. This is nothing new. And I’m not special enough to die from something as ordinary as this.”
“Ye are verra special. Tae me.”
I gave him a frown smile. “I love you. No dying, promise.”
I closed my eyes again and he lay on his side, alternately falling asleep, and waking up to check on me.
A few minutes later I startled him by asking, “What do you think she’s doing right now?”
“I believe she is cryin’ for ye. I believe she feels the loss greatly.”
A tear slid from my eye and streamed down my face. "Thank you. I feel absolutely every fucking emotion about that — devastated, relieved, furious, guilty. Is Emma consoling her?”
“Aye, right now she is in Emma’s arms. Emma is singin’ tae her. In that way she has and Isla is looking at her like this...” He made his face screw up in a look of incredulousness. “Because she is singing verra high like she