New ways. A new future.Peace.
“Oh,fine,” she whispered, as she drew him down, and touched a kiss to his warm, waiting mouth. “Again.”
19
The next morning found Maria very sore, very wet, and very… peaceful. Thinking thoughts that didn’t shout or scrape or rattle, but instead seemed to slowly slide past, like clouds scudding placidly along in a bright blue sky.
She was in Simon’s bed. She’d spent the night curled into Simon’s arms, hearing him snore softly into her ear. The beast at his groin had stayed hidden inside her while they’d slept, whispering quiet and close. And when she’d blinked awake into pure blackness, and felt him swelling within her, she’d gasped, and ground her hips against him, and moaned his name as she came.
She’d fallen asleep again after that, and she could remember Simon getting up at some point in the night, his warm heavy body easing out of the bed. But now she could hear him again, from the direction of his bench, the already-familiar shirring sounds slicing through the stillness.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes, and then rolled over to look at him in the lamplight. He was sharpening what looked to be a smaller knife, with a smaller stone — and as she watched, bemused, he carefully placed the stone on top of the haphazard pyre she’d made, and then raised the little knife to scrape hard against his throat.
Maria gasped, and jerked up to sitting — to which Simon shot her a look that was surely amused, as he scraped the knife again, curving it up over his heavily stubbled jaw. He was —shaving?
Maria’s mouth made a hoarse, reflexive sound — alaugh— and in this easy, quiet moment, there seemed no reason not to sit here and watch him. His hand so deft and capable, the knife stroking quick and efficient against his skin.
“You shave?” she heard her voice ask, with an unfamiliar low lilt. “Every day?”
In return Simon shrugged, and beckoned her toward him with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Most days, ach,” he said, once Maria had slipped out of the bed — valiantly fighting to ignore the resulting mess — and strode over to stand before him. “No so oft when I am away.”
Away. “Are you away often?” Maria asked, belatedly realizing, first, that the floor had still been relatively clear, from her frantic cleaning spree the day before — and second, that her loincloth must have come off at some point in the night, and that Simon was still naked too. And third, that he was half-smiling at her, his eyes warm and approving as they flicked up and down her fully bared form, lingering on the sticky mess between her thighs.
“Ach, oft,” he said, as his big hand reached to grasp her hip, drawing her closer between his sprawled-apart knees. “Today, I must go see some brothers to the west. You shall wait here whilst I work, ach?”
Oh. Waiting again. Maria’s thoughts had been dwelling, absurdly, on the arena, or perhaps even on the idea of asking Simon to show her more of the Skai wing — and she felt her eyes drop, her stomach sinking in her belly.
“I don’t suppose,” she heard herself say, “I could go on your trip with you?”
And even as the hope was foolishly rising — gods, it felt like anagesince she’d seen the sky— Simon’s low, disapproving growl instantly dashed it again. “Ach, no,” he said, his voice hard. “I spoke to you of this, woman. You are to stay here in the Skai wing, and honour me. Whilst I am away today, you shall eat, and pray here to Skai-kesh, and read these words the Ka-esh have written. I have also granted you these new tools I spoke of, and you shall make good use of these for me.”
With that, he gave Maria’s hip a firm pat, and then smoothly rose to his feet, and strode around her toward the shelf she’d organized the day before. His hand briefly settling on one of the carved figures — the smiling orc with the barrel chest — and he carefully moved it to the front of his neatened little collection, before reaching below to tug out something from the pile of clothes. A pair of trousers, Maria realized, and he swiftly drew them on, and then stalked over to strap on his usual scimitar.
“When you have done all this,” he continued, “you shall go to Baldr” — he jerked his head toward the next room — “and obey what he tells you. And if you again please me in all this, tonight I shall again grant you my reward. Ach?”
Oh. So he really was planning to be away for some time, then. And last night — perhaps last night still hadn’t changed anything between them, after all. Not if he was truly still playing this damned rewards game with her. And gods, Maria wasn’t even supposed to care, this was only about her freedom, and that wasall.
So she fought to hold herself still, to ignore the lurching dip in her gut as Simon strode for the door. He was just an orc. She would take what she could get. It didn’t matter, it didn’t…
But then, abruptly, Simon hesitated. Turned back. His big hand settling warm and powerful against Maria’s cheek, tilting her head up, making her meet his intent black eyes.
“I no wish to leave you thus today,” he said, his voice low. “But when I come back, my reward shall surely please you, ach? You shall scream even louder than last eve, whilst I plough you with good seed.”
The warmth studded and swirled, escaping in a low, reflexive gasp from Maria’s throat, and Simon’s mouth pulled into a crooked little smile, his teeth glinting sharp against his lip. “Think upon this, my pretty one,” he purred, “whilst you use your new tools for me.”
With that, he turned and stalked out the door, leaving Maria standing there naked behind him. Feeling oddly hot and shivery, and again, almost… content. Peaceful. Perhaps even…eager.
And suddenly it felt easy, somehow, to obey the orders he’d given her. To speak a short, fervent prayer to Skai-kesh, with today’s fear, and longing, and blessing. To go for the chest, pull out the waiting basket of food, and eat until it was empty. To read another of the orc treatises — this one a highly reassuring, if also unnerving, discussion of processes to ensure safe orcling birth. And then, finally, to turn her attention to those new… tools. Almost indistinguishable from the previous two, but for their slightly larger size.
At least the increase wasn’t too terrifying, so Maria gamely took them in hand, and once again made for the bed. Where she indeed thought of Simon, of his huge powerful body trapped deep within, as she coated the smooth stones in the heavy, scented slickness still oozing from her crease. And then she eased them inside, one and then the other, feeling herself gasp and writhe at the heat, the burn, the invading uncompromising fullness. Until there were no thoughts left but this, the power and the pleasure, her whole body wracking with her breaths.
She finally stopped once the relief had soared and settled, leaving a heated soreness behind — but also, again, the strange, inexplicable contentment. And once she’d wobbled back to the chest, and safely hidden the tools away again, she dressed in another of Simon’s tunics, combed through her tangled curls with her fingers, and straightened out the messy bed. And with all that accomplished, she almost felt a little jaunty as she picked up the lamp, and went for Baldr’s new room next door.
“Baldr?” she asked, as she reached the dark doorway. “Simon wanted me to —”
But the words broke in her throat, her stomach flopping — because Baldr wasn’t alone. He was with —Drafli. And Drafli currently had him pinned face-first to the wall, trousers yanked down to his knees, his hips snapping hard against Baldr’s bared arse.
Goodgods. Maria had, of course, already seen far worse sights in this mountain — but even so, for an instant she seemed frozen in place, her eyes fixed wide to the sight. To the almost predatory intensity in Drafli’s fluid driving form, the unmistakable pain and pleasure in Baldr’s half-lidded eyes. To the way Drafli’s head bent to Baldr’s neck, while Baldr arched and moaned, his claws dragging down the wall —
