And gods, she hadn’t at all realized that he could be so generous, so indulgent, so willing — but now that she fully understood what this was, what he wanted, it made so much more sense. He craved that control, that upper hand, perhaps because it was the opposite of what he’d so often had before. But he also didn’t want her to lie down and take it, he wanted her to fight him for it, to make him earn it.
It meant that she glared at him as she sucked him, scraping him with her teeth. It meant that she kicked and struggled as he turned her over and pounded her into the bed, hard enough that her teeth chattered, until she pleaded and begged for it. And it meant that when his slick, dripping-wet strength slid purposefully up her crease, prodding hard and demanding against her tight resisting heat, she cursed loudly and eloquently toward him, even as she willingly arched her back, and opened up as wide as she could, as he slowly, surely sank all the way inside.
“I knew you loved this, poppet,” he hissed at her, his claws scraping light but purposeful down her back. “You love naught more than having a strong Ash-Kai orc ploughing your plump little rump, feeding it full of good seed.”
Geva was cursing at him again, even as she desperately clutched and clung to him, and he gave her arse a firm, stinging little swat. “Behave,” he ordered her, dark and dangerous. “Else I shall need to plough it again straight after this, ach?”
But Geva kept fighting him this time, calling him every awful name she could possibly think of, because oh, she wanted him to do it again, needed it so much it ached. And once he’d poured her full, and drawn out of her with a messy, humiliating squelch, she nearly preened at the feel of him touching her tender body with his fingers, holding it wider open, greedily looking at the mess he’d made…
“Again, then,” he’d said, so cool, so casual, firing impossible flashes of craving all through her body. “Andbehavethis time.”
So Geva did behave, begged and pleaded and thanked him, until both her throat and her rump felt reddened and raw. And once she’d collapsed down onto the bed, utterly exhausted, she couldn’t help shivering all over at the feel of him gently wiping her up, tending to her, caring for her. Without a single mention of coin, or twenty-one — twenty — days, or the sea.
“G’night, love,” she whispered at him, once he’d gathered her close, his big body in its usual place against her back. “Thank you.”
He chuckled into her hair, his body rhythmically vibrating against her. “I ken you are fuck-drunk and seed-sick, poppet,” he murmured in her ear. “You shall be cursing me again, I ken, come the morn.”
But when morning came — and with it, the feel of Rathgarr easing out of bed, going to the wardrobe — Geva somehow still felt more awake, more aware, than she perhaps had since first arriving in this mountain. Like all the truths she’d learned last night were twining with everything that had come before, shifting into something she hadn’t been able to see until now.
Maybe… maybe there was another way. Maybe it didn’t need to be revenge, and twenty days. Because it was very clear that Grimarr was making an effort, the Skai were making an effort, and even Kesst had said he didn’t want vengeance, right? He wanted something… else. And maybe therewassomething else to all this, something here. Something… new.
So instead of just lying there, or asking pointed questions about where he was going off to this time, Geva slipped out of bed, and followed him over to the wardrobe, to where he’d already yanked on trousers and a tunic. And when he spun around to face her, his tunic askew, she reached up and straightened it out, pulled it smooth over his familiar broad shoulders.
“So I accepted Jule’s teaching position,” she told him, as lightly as she could, ignoring the sudden stiffness of his body beneath her fingers. “Just on a term basis. Not for the coin, but” — she glanced up at his watching, already-narrowed eyes — “because I really do agree with what she’s trying to do. Those orclings need to be supported, educated, keptsafe.”
Rathgarr’s body was slightly relaxing beneath her touch, so Geva kept going, tying up the laces of his tunic, tucking it into his trousers. “So I intend to help develop a plan, and a curriculum,” she said, flashing him an easy, teasing smile as she let her fingers linger against that lovely bulge in his trousers. “And I was wondering if you might have any advice? If you’d had the chance to implement a curriculum for Kesst when you were raising him, what would you have liked to see included?”
Rathgarr was blinking down at her, now perhaps more suspicious than disapproving, but he shrugged, and reached into the wardrobe for his belt. “Mayhap not just this reading and writing, I ken,” he said slowly, as he shoved the belt into Geva’s hands. “Kesst should have liked to learn music, or art, or mayhap how to sew clothes, or forge fine jewels. Or” — his brow furrowed — “he ought to have been taught the clan’s tales, rather than needing to seek them out all over, as he did.”
Geva’s head tilted with genuine interest, her hands gone slack on the belt. “Do you mean your clan has its own tales, too?” she asked. “Ones that are passed down orally, rather than in writing?”
“Ach, each clan has these, I ken,” Rathgarr replied, with another shrug. “Tales of our gods, and our forebears, and their journeys and conquests. Amidst all this war, most orcs have not had time nor peace to mark these all down in books to carry about, as you humans have, ach?”
This was highly intriguing, and Geva eagerly nodded, and gave him a grateful smile. “I’d love to include that,” she said, as she belatedly slid the belt around his waist. “Anything else you can think of?”
Rathgarr was looking truly thoughtful now, his eyes faraway, his mouth pursed. “Ach, mayhap,” he said. “Kesst ought to have learnt how to fight, and defend himself. I sought in earnest to teach him this, but it so oft ended in weeping and shouting that I could not bear to push it further. But mayhap with another teacher, one who is mayhap more patient, and can alter this to suit each learner’s strength. As mayhap with…”
“Sigarr,” Geva finished for him, with a grin. “That’s a magnificent idea, love. He was a wonderful teacher yesterday.”
Rathgarr’s eyes had gone unmistakably warm on hers — and then even warmer as they glanced downwards. To where he was now fully dressed, while Geva, much to her sudden chagrin, was still completely bare, her brown skin liberally covered in thick white streaks, several in the distinct shape of his big hands.
“Very pretty, poppet,” he purred at her, with a gentle slap at her rear. “But this, today, if you must.”
His voice had gone a bit too casual as he reached into the wardrobe, producing yet another one of her shifts. And rather than arguing it, or questioning it, Geva twitched a nod, and a rueful smile toward him. Earning another gentle slap at her arse, lingering for an instant too long — but then a purposeful glance away, a clearing of his throat.
“I have a few matters to attend to, this morn,” he said. “Shall you be well, on your own? I shall again keep track of your scent, and” — he shot her a smirk — “it shall be even easier now, you ken.”
Oh. Geva fought to ignore the sudden plunge in her belly — he was really still leaving her alone again, no doubt so he could pursue his nefarious plans? — and desperately attempted another smile. “And you’ll come find me, after?” she said, the hope too tenuous in her voice. “I was wondering if maybe… maybe you’d come dancing with me again, if we can find some music?”
And yes, yes, that was warmth flashing again in his eyes, or perhaps even the same affectionate indulgence as the night before. “Still seeking to earn more of my tongue, poppet?” he said lightly. “Ach, we shall find some music for this, I ken.”
Geva’s answering grin was bright and delighted this time, and she impulsively leaned up, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I can’t wait,” she said. “See you then.”
At that, Rathgarr gave an uncertain-looking smile, and then made a rather hasty exit. But as Geva cleaned up and prepared for the day, dressing in the shift he’d chosen, she found her determination circling even closer, settling quiet and deep. They could find another way. Something new.
That purpose stayed with her for the rest of the morning, even once Jule had come to collect her, as promised, for the first-ever meeting of the Orc Mountain Educational Congress. The title had been chosen by an ever-enthusiastic Rosa, who proudly presided over the meeting in her library, smiling beatifically at the attendees as they entered. In addition to Jule and Geva, this included a bemused-looking Kalfr, a mild-eyed Varinn, and a smaller, remarkably handsome Ka-esh orc named Tristan, who softly introduced himself as one of Rosa’s closest kin-brothers.
“It’s sowonderfulto have you all here to discuss such an important priority for us all,” Rosa said, once they’d all been seated around a large table. “Now, Jule, if you could —”
