Right. And then their own relationship had begun in much the same way, perhaps, with the payment, the coin — but perhaps Rathgarr had followed that thought too, his eyes so intent on hers. “But what we made between us, with the coin, this was… freeing,” he continued slowly. “I held the power in this, for once. And though you could have taken this from me, you never did, poppet. You made this…safe. And thus, there was no need for me to hide, or play-act, or learn how best to please you, to gain what I wished. Instead,youlearnt how to pleaseme. Not only this, but” — he drew in another deep breath — “you play-actedwithme. You were my true helpmate, poppet. And I never knew how much I longed for this, until I tasted it. Until I began to fear the loss of it. Until I began to think you had done to me, what I had always done tothem.”
Oh. Geva’s hand had slipped into his hair, stroking softly against his scalp, and he leaned his head into her touch, his breath exhaling. “I was wrong,” he whispered. “I was afraid, and a fool, and a greedy, selfishingrate. I was so full of my own misbeliefs that I could no more see beyond them. And when you told me this grim truth of your parents, I blamed you, instead of myself. I used this to tell myself that you had spoken false to me, that you kept secrets from me — when I had done so much worse to you. I was so cruel, poppet. I am so sorry.”
Geva still couldn’t seem to speak, though she felt herself nodding, acknowledging this, agreeing with this. And he was nodding too, hard and fervent, a wretched little smile pulling at his mouth. “And after all this,” he said, “you threw those terms upon me. And I was so sure they were a trick, I was so sure you yet sought a secret path to my gold. Until you left, and Kesst finally came to himself, and…”
He huffed a short, humourless chuckle, shaking his head against Geva’s fingers. “He laughed at me,” he continued. “And then began shouting that I was a fool, who was not worthy of you. For instead of suiting yourself with your terms, you helpedme. You helpedus.”
Geva felt her mouth twitch up, and Rathgarr flashed her a wry, regretful little smile in return. “This was very Ash-Kai of you, poppet,” he said. “You bound me to stay. You bound me to keep running your school, and tending the orclings you so cared for. You even took my coin, so I could not hold this against you, or claim I had been wronged. All this, even after I” — he grimaced — “I again mocked you, and spurned you. I pushed you away. I cruelly stole even these small farewells from you, and thus threw upon those blameless orclings what had been thrown upon Kesst, when I left.”
Geva didn’t hide her grimace at that, and Rathgarr grimaced too, gave another shake of his head. “Kesst told me I had become worse than our mother and father combined,” he said heavily. “With my bluster, and my short-sightedness, and my secrets, and my greed. And he was not wrong, ach? He is so clever, my little brother. So quick and wise.”
The smile was again curving at his mouth, his eyes flickering fond and rueful. “And after this, Kesst and I… spoke,” he continued. “We spoke for nearly all the day, with no more of these lies and tricks and secrets between us. I learnt much of him, and of how he spent our time apart, that I had not known before. I learnt much about how Grimarr and Efterar — and ach, mayhap even Ulfarr — had looked after him, when I could not. And by the end of this” — he shrugged — “neither of us wished for this hoard. Neither of us wished to gain from so much suffering.”
Oh. Geva was smiling back, her relief surely shining in her eyes, and his own smile pulled higher, his head tilting further into her touch. “And by giving this hoard to Grimarr, and the mountain,” he said, “I have offered some amends for his kindness — not only in caring for Kesst, but in welcoming me there without deceit or reserve, even when he knew I was plotting against him. Also, he has sworn to return all my mother stole to its rightful owners, as Kesst and I both wished — and once this is done, in keeping with your terms, he shall put the greater part of what remains toward our school. So that all our kin may gain from this. So our young orcs shall be cared for, and kept safe.”
Geva couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and her other hand had come up to caress against Rathgarr’s familiar, beautiful face. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “I’m so, so glad.”
Rathgarr’s grin back was quick and stunning, and perhaps a little smug, too. “I thought this should please you, poppet,” he said lightly. “And you shall also be pleased, I ken, to hear that I have kept a few things. Some heirlooms from my father, and some shiny trinkets and goods and clothes for you. For I well know how you like to be spoilt, ach?”
Geva made a face at him, and uselessly kicked at his back with her foot, and in return he laughed, the sound tender and affectionate, his eyes sparkling on hers. “Do not pretend to deny this,” he purred. “I know what a greedy little Ash-Kai schoolmarm I have caught for my mate. I know what you long for, my sweet.”
Geva fully intended to argue this, eventually, once her swirling thoughts fully digested those impossible words —my mate— on his mouth, in his voice. When suddenly he pushed up and backwards, a teasing, devious glint flashing in his eyes, as his hand slipped down between them, pressing tight over the curve of her. And then he drew out his softened length, even as his other arm firmly encircled both her thighs, hoisting them out and up toward him. Meaning that Geva’s arse was tilted up, propped high against his chest, her legs over his shoulders, as he ducked his head deep between…
And then, oh glorious gods, was his mouth. His warm, wet, open mouth, obliterating all else, as it latched tight between her legs. Catching the furious rush of his own hot seed as it surged up and out of her, his throat rapidly, audibly swallowing, his hooded eyes held to hers. And damn him, that was his tongue, slithering down deep inside — and then thickening, lingering there, almost as if to block the rest of it from escaping, to keep it held within…
And oh, yes, that was exactly what he was doing. His half-lidded eyes angling down to her belly, to how he was tilting her bottom half up, as if to ensure all that thick, dangerous seed was settling deep, finding its home. As if she were a cup, and he was making sure she stayed full, until she’d drunk all she could of him. Until she’d made his son.
He hoisted her up higher against him, his eyes now sharp and almost challenging on hers, as his tongue drew a little out again. Enough to release a thick rivulet of seed from the cup he’d made, but he leisurely licked it, caught it, and then delved in again for more. Tasting from it, skimming from it, deliberate and calculating, being careful not to spill it, not to take too much…
And surely, Geva could have been alarmed, or offended, because they’d still only known each other a few weeks, they’d tainted it with coin and secrets and lies. And not only had he pinned her to a schoolroom table, and brutally had his way with her, but now he was blatantly, shamelessly soaking her with his fresh raw seed, doing his utmost to spawn his son upon her. While he licked her like this, taunted her with his beautiful eyes, challenged her to dare fight him on this.
But there was no need to fight him, not when she herself wanted it so much, when her sheer craving was clutching desperately back at him, kissing at his slick lips and tongue. Wanting him to know he could do this, because she’d earned this, she’d seen all of him and she still needed more, needed everything he would show her, all he would give her. Her own fierce, greedy, vicious Ash-Kai mate, covered in a deceptive veneer of smooth manners, impeccable grooming, and exquisite, well-fitted clothes.
But even deeper, perhaps, beneath the ravenous orc who was so shamelessly gaining himself a son, was just… him. The Rathgarr who’d wept at her tales at nights. The Rathgarr who’d so deeply grieved his lost brother. Who’d knelt before her, and whispered,It is not good, then? You do not like it?
And somehow, Geva had reached both hands back to his hair, sinking her fingers deep. “You’re so good, Rathgarr,” she whispered. “So strong. So clever. So generous, to grant me your seed like this. To help me spark your son.”
His groan was instant and deep, vibrating into the very core of her through his still-tasting tongue, so she kept caressing him, stroking him, adoring him. “I want you so much,” she continued, between gasps, as his tongue slipped a little deeper. “I need you, Rathgarr. Need your pleasure, and your care, and your trust. Need your scent all over me, inside me, until it’ll never, ever fade away.”
And oh, he was still groaning, his cheeks flushed, his long lashes furiously fluttering, and his tongue stroked harder, deeper, just there, there. Wringing up the taut, trembling anticipation, the already-pulsing pleasure, the greedy kisses against his plunging tongue…
“Please, Rathgarr,” she gulped. “Give this to me. Make me yours in every possible way. Please, Rathgarr, please!”
And yes, yes, he was here, with her, his eyes blazing, his mouth sucking and slurping, his tongue plunging and kissing and rewarding her. Meeting her challenge, making her his, and him hers, doing this, sparking this,I am here for you, my mate…
The pleasure shattered out even fiercer than before, ringing and raging through the totality of Geva’s awareness, and crushing her beneath its sheer, staggering wonder. Swerving out again and again and again, curling her up toward him, pulling at him, desperate for him, while he just kept kissing her there, sucking and slurping upon her, latched to her, burying his face deep. As if he craved nothing more than to drink her dry, to gorge himself on her until he drowned.
Geva was trembling and tingling all over when he finally drew away, his face flushed and slick, his eyes searching, uncertain, perhaps even uneasy. His throat swallowing again, and then again, his mouth twitching into a smile that wasn’t a smile at all.
“You are yet… sure, poppet,” he said thickly. “This was not just… the hunger, after all these days apart.”
But Geva’s tingling hand had found his mouth, her eyes utterly certain on his. “I want this, Rathgarr,” she said. “I want you. I want to stay with you. I want to raise my son with you. You’remine.”
The strange fierceness was in her voice again, ringing with sureness, with truth — and drawing up something much like relief in his blinking, shimmering eyes.
“Ach, I am yours, Geva Okoro,” he whispered, so soft. “And thus, I grant you my favour, and my sword, and my fealty. I shall keep you safe, and fed, and filled, so long as I am able, and so long as you shall wish.”
He spoke it with a quiet, lilting cadence, as if the words weren’t only his, but drawn from well beyond him, perhaps from a tale she didn’t yet know. But it sounded like truth, like something that could never be unspoken. And when he slowly bent down, and pressed his mouth to hers, it felt like it was rushing and gathering between them, flinging out fiery cords and filaments, binding them in the depth of its spell. In the taste of both him and her on their twining tongues, in the way his sharp teeth bit gently but purposefully at her lip, and then at his own. Sealing the vow with blood as well as seed, with tang and salt and sweetness, freely gained, freely given.
