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“You’re so tight, keva,” Han’zir moans, sinking in deep on his first thrust. I cry out as he fills me all the way full, so full that not all of him can fit, and Drazak’s fluid spills down my legs. When our orc has recovered, he pours oil into his hand and runs his fingers between my ass cheeks while Han’zir desperately fucks me. When he arrives at the tight hole there, I whimper in anticipation.
“Drazak?” I ask, having never been touched there before. Drazak kisses the side of my face.
“Would you let me?” he asks. “It will feel good.”
I nod hastily, wondering what he has planned. Will he take me the way that he takes Han’zir? He works his fingers inside me, opening me up, urging my body to give to him. I’m overcome by sheer sensation when one finally slips in, and almost immediately I reach my peak. I scream, every muscle in my body wrenching tight. With a groan, Han’zir shoves himself deep and unleashes inside me.
When we’re finished, my thighs sticky with both of them, Drazak lifts my hips into his lap. He rubs a hand over my belly, and a hopeful smile spreads across his face.
“We’ll try again and again,” he murmurs, leaning his head down to rest between my breasts. “Until you’re full with us.”
I shudder all over, excited by this wild new idea they’ve had, and curious where it will lead when so many doors seem closed.
Drazak
After the incident with whelp, I decide I should try harder to teach Esme our language. There are lots of words she hasn’t encountered yet that make it hard for her to tell us what she means.
And I want to know all of her. I want to hear everything she thinks, everything she longs to tell us. I want the three of us to have deep conversations around the fire for many nights. Already I’ve learned so many things about her: that she worked for a family, and took care of their children, and she lights up when she talks about them. I think she would be quite good with some of her own. But her enthusiasm quickly vanishes after that, and she falls quiet again. I sense there’s more she isn’t telling us.
When I’m not hunting or trying to fix up the old tiller to sell—not that anyone else has much coin left to buy it with—I’m drawing pictures of words I can think of, things that Esme might come across in her life. It’s something to distract me when the nights start getting longer and the prospect of spending the winter without our usual stores of preserved goods looms larger.
I can’t change it. If our new relationship has taught me anything, it’s that there are some things in this world written about your life before you’re ever born, and it’s impossible to avoid them. All I can do is meet it head-on. I’ll do as much to prepare as I can before the cold sets in, but there are many ugly, dark months ahead.
We’ll have to make sacrifices. In a way, that steadies me, because I know that I would sacrifice anything for them so they don’t have to feel the weight.
On a cool night, we gather around the fire, Esme sitting between my legs and Han’zir leaning half-asleep against my shoulder. I pull out the sheafs of paper where I’ve drawn of all sorts of things, from eggplant to butterfly to wagon wheel, and put one on the floor in front us.
“Butterfly,” I tell Esme, gesturing at the drawing. She tilts her head, as if she doesn’t quite comprehend.
“Drazak,” Han’zir says in a solemn voice. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but you are not an artist.”
“Shut up,” I hiss at him, and clear my throat as I move the butterfly drawing away and replace it with the wheel.
About half of my drawings are passable, and Esme learns the words quickly. It entertains her, and she responds beautifully to my praise, her eyes pinching closed with how large she smiles.
“Cat,” I tell her, gesturing at the drawing.
“Meow,” she answers with a laugh. “Cat.”
“And a kitten?” says Han’zir. He forms a tiny shape with his hands and makes a cute little kitten noise.
“Kitten,” Esme answers, and I chuckle.
“Right.” I flip the drawing over. “And this is a dog.”
When she hears the word, Esme looks curiously down at it.
“Dog?” she repeats.
“Oh, and then it’s you!” Han’zir says. He repeats the baby animal gesture. “A puppy!”
“Puppy?” she says, using her own name. The smile slowly falls from her face as she glances between us.
“A cute little puppy,” Han’zir says brightly.
Her curiosity vanishes. My idiot troll doesn’t notice the ghostly paleness that’s fallen over her, the way her hands have stilled at her sides. Esme pulls away from me, snatching up the paper and holding it to her chest.
“Me?” she says, her voice trembling.
