“I won't ask that of you,” Bran told King, adding, “My daughter seems to enjoy your company.”

That had become very obvious to King, which pleased him as much as it pleased Annie.

 And…” Bran began, before ending, “It's fine.”

King couldn't help but wonder what the man had been about to say. He [i]hoped[/i] it was something along the lines of [i]And I want you to fuck my daughter at your earliest convenience[/i]. Bran wouldn't have put it in those words, of course, but King couldn't help but fantasize that something to that effect had been on the man's tongue. 

Soon, thoughts such as those faded away, and everything was about getting off the sea and to safety on the shore. King found himself surprised at how quick and organized the trio were; it was obvious to him that they and their people had dealt with these sudden storms often in the past. 

King simply followed instructions barked at him, during the frenzied dash for shore, the erection of the tent, and the preparations of the fire and bed. It quickly became obvious that they would all be sleeping under the same layers, and the earlier thoughts of [i]bedding[/i] Annie returned. 

Those thoughts resulted in a rapidly swelling cock when the girl announced [i]“I'm tired”[/i], and King looked up to find her standing facing away from her in nothing more than panties. He should have looked away, of course, but he found himself unable to do the right thing.  Annie had a beautiful body, tight and well curved; when she leaned down to retrieve her sleeping gown, King caught a quick glimpse of a firm [i]titty[/i] that literally caused him to casually lick his lips with hopeful anticipation. 

After Annie’s perfect form was again hidden, King looked about himself with sudden guilt, wondering if his ogling of the girl had been noticed. Paul was busy tending to the kelp log fire, and King couldn't know if he, too, had witnessed the [i]erotic[/i] display. Looking to Bran, though, King caught the man smiling wide as he tended to his pack. The father peeked up at him for just an instance before returning to his work, and King knew he'd been caught. 

No words were exchanged, though, and both men returned to preparing for bed as Annie herself inquired as to who she'd be sleeping between. King didn't understand the words spoken in Danish, of course, but again he fantasized lewd options for what they might have meant. 

“Take the edge nearest the fire,” Bran told King, explaining, “You're as close to a [i]gæst[/i] … a guest … as we've ever had, so…”

“Are you sure?” King asked, thinking that maybe the lone female might want to be close to the radiant energy coming off the [i]logs[/i] of dried seaweed. When Paul and Bran had their exchange about his possible contamination of them, King responded, “I'll try not to breathe on you, Paul.”

As he shed his boots and prepared to do the same with his wet pants, King caught Annie looking his way. Feeling playful, he told Paul, “I'll try to keep my hands to myself, too … but no promises.”

The other man vying for a place of intimacy in Annie’s life only glared back at King, before he, too, slipped under the layers of bedding.

Annie spoke her end-of-day words to each of the men from her village, then looked again to the [i]stranger[/i] sharing the bed. “Goodnight, King.”

“Godnat, Annie,” King said in his best attempt at the girl’s first language. He added just barely loud enough to be heard over the driving wind and pounding rain, “Sleep tight.”

King watched her get comfortable, exchanged one last glare with the man lying next to him, and rolled to lie on his side, looking at the small fire. He was contemplating the strange and multiple twists his life had taken to get him here when the exhaustion of the day pushed him quickly into a deep, sound sleep.