Haley Thistle
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Orc Boyfriend: Silvestrov 2 (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-01-13 21:01:00 +0000 UTCWinter was coming faster than Fall could end. Harsh ice storms had already blocked the roads, and heavy snows were fast sealing them up. You had been opening your hot springs to the men and women who were trying to chop through the ice to let in suppliers from the South. Since the winter was in a hurry to begin, not many people had a chance to finish stocking their cellars. The ice was harsh, but the hot springs offered a soothing relief from the pain, as well as helping their aching hands and joints. Silvestrov had been going to help as well, but he never took advantage of the hot springs. Instead, he would go and sit by the fire, showing Severnova how to properly use an ice pick.
One evening, after Silvestrov had tucked Severova to bed, you were crushing dried herbs to rub onto the chicken you had bought at market. Silvestrov sat by the fire, warming his hands. He was having trouble closing his fist and was slowly working his fingers.
“You work hard, but you do nothing to heal up after.” You scoff at him. “What sort of lesson is that to teach your daughter?”
“I must work hard to regain what I have lost.”
“You’ll lose a finger or worse if you do not take care of yourself!” You scold at him. “Working at the ice all day then doing nothing to repay the limbs that worked so hard! Why do you think I offer the hot springs to those chipping away at the ice block?”
He smirks up at you. “To spy on their firm and naked hides?”
Your jaw clinches and you stare him down with needles in your eyes. “I would slap you if I did not think you would shatter like glass.”
Silvestrov licks at the corner of his mouth where the scar begins. “Go ahead, slap me. I would welcome the touch. It has been a long time since I was struck in combat. I do miss it sometimes.”
You roll your eyes. “Combat! You really are idiotic. Thank the goddess that Severova is smarter than you.”
He leans back in the chair, gently working his fingers until they can form a fist again. “I am grateful for that too. She will make a worthy adversary one day.”
You nearly drop the pan with the chicken in it. “Do you want to fight her?”
“Having fights with ones young is both cathartic and bonding.”
You slam the pan down on the counter and turn on him. “You are not fighting that little girl!” You snap at him. “Not now, not even if she grows to be ten feet tall!”
Silvestrov clicks his tongue dismissively at you. “She is not a human, little woman, she is an Orc. One of the Ruby Eyed Orcs, in fact. She was born to be strong, born to fight and hunt. She will not be a delicate little homemaker like you.”
“Who says?” You bark at him. “You?” You jab him in the chest. “She is the one who decides what she is!”
“She’s got very little choice once I take her in the summer.”
“Stop throwing that in my face!” You slap him upside his head. “At least have the common decency to take your salt and rub it in the snow rather than my wounds!” You slam your palm against your chest.
“You hit me,” he laughs. “About time.”
You sniff and mock his tongue click. “If I had a pan I wanted to ruin, I would beat you with it. But you are not worth scruffing my cast iron.”
Silvestrov chuckles, watching as you turn back to rubbing the chicken with herbs. “I can see why she loves you so much.”
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
“She still hasn’t called me daddy or papa or whatever she wants,” he grumbles.
You turn and look back at him. “These things take time,” you huff. “She will love you. She probably already does.”
“You were angry with me and now you want to comfort me?” He laughs sadly.
“I can be many things at once, but if I were you, I wouldn’t test it for a third thing.” You grumble under your breath as you look back at the chicken.
“Fuck!” He cusses loudly under his breath.
You roll your eyes and set the chicken aside. “What’s wrong now?” You wash your hands in the sink, preparing yourself to deal with a fallen off nail or cut.
“My hands,” he snarls.
“I told you to use the hot springs. Even if all you dunk in are your hands.” You go over to his side and look his hand over. “Cold and overworking them, surprised you aren’t turning blue.”
“I don’t need your hot springs.”
You bite your tongue, but you cannot hold it for very long. “Why is that?”
“Just hot water.”
You stomp your foot. “It is minerals and healing properties from the volcano! The waters are heated by the magma flowing in the veins of the goddess Krynova, and blessed with her holy endowments.”
Silvestrov throws his head back laughing. “You believe in that religious bullshit?” He holds his gut from laughing so hard.
You want to slap him again, but you stave your hand. “And what if I do? I’ve seen how well the waters work to know they’ve been blessed by something!”
“Blessed by Ifrit piss,” he snorts.
You stare daggers into him, grinding your teeth as you try to catch your breath. “You should hold your tongue.”
“You hold it,” he growls. “If you’re so interested in bathing in piss, hold my cock too while I-” You hit him in the jaw, stroking him with a closed fist. It hurts, really bad, but the feeling inside is pure jubilation.
“If you think I’m going to let you fill my daughter’s head full of that sort of pig headed nonsense, then you are sorely mistaken! You speak to a lady, no, to everyone, with common fucking curtousy! Don’t you dare speak to me like that ever again!” You hold your hand to your chest, already seeing your knuckles begin to bruise.
Silvestrov rubs his jaw. “Can’t say I’ve ever received such a tender punch.” You start to yell again but he smiles. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Apologize,” you snarl at him.
His smile grows as he looks at you. “I am sorry. I won’t speak that way again.”
You turn and head towards the door. “I’m going to go soak my fist. You best be gone by the time I return.”
You go to the hot spring, taking off your shoes and sinking your feet inside. Doubling over, you dip your hand under water to let it soak. Behind you, you hear footsteps in the snow. Silvestrov walks to the other side of the pool. You sit up and glare at him before looking at your hand.
“Who taught you to throw a punch?” he asks.
“My husband,” you grumble.
“Where is he?” Silvestrov sits down on the stones, removing his boots. You watch him curiously as he dips his big feet into the water. His right foot is missing toes.
“He passed away, I thought I mentioned that.” You sink your hand back into the water.
“At least he was smart enough to teach you how to defend yourself before he left.” Silvestrov sighs. “That is all I want to teach Severova. Life is hard here in the Polar. She deserves to know how to not just survive, but thrive.”
“I thought I told you-”
“This is not salt. I want her to be strong, no matter what road she chooses.”
You sit back up and take a breath. “Enjoying dipping your feet in Ifrit piss?”
“It is warm,” he says with a shrug. “Plus, it is night out and something like you smells very good to something that may not have eaten today.”
You smirk at him. “Then if I take a soak, will you stay with me?”
He licks the corner of his mouth. “I don’t like how suggestive that is, little woman.”
You take off your dress, leaving your underclothes on. You then slip into the hot spring, and take a seat on one of the stones at the bottom. You sit in silence until Silvestrov stands, removing his clothes. You avert your gaze as he steps down into the water, lounging back with his arms stretched out. You keep your eyes away, slowly looking back at him. You swallow and try to take the victory.
“How is it?” You ask.
“Like a bath,” he grunts. “Nothing special to me.”
You smirk at him. “I cannot wait to see you change your mind.”
It is silent again, both of you won’t look directly at one another, and you have no idea what to say. Eventually, Silvestrov stirs and he clears his throat. “I am sorry about what I said inside the house.” He looks back towards the warm, glowing windows. “I wanted to make you angry, to upset you.”
“Thank you,” you murmur from surprise. “I appreciate that.”
“I wanted to hurt you,” he then says, “because it hurts me when I see you with Severova.” He looks you dead in the eye. “I see how much she adores you, how much she prefers you, and it is a knife in my heart.”
“Oh,” you whisper. “I...I’m sorry I-” You press your lips together. “I thought-”
“I almost died trying to protect her,” he whispers. “Everything that I am now is for her.” He points towards the house. “And seeing her with you it just-”
“I feel the same way. When I see her with you.” You take in a shuddering breath and clasp your hands over your knees. “I see her smiling and having fun with you. You teach her things I will never be able to about herself, and it rips me apart. Because this may be the last winter I have with her-” Tears spring into your eyes. “And it makes me want to beat you to death.”
He chuckles. “Then why haven’t you?”
You look at him and a smile starts to bloom. You laugh too and shake your head, slowly growing into a big belly laugh. After it fades, you’re still smiling. “I really should, shouldn’t I?” You stand up from the water and reach for your clothes. While your back is turned Silvestrov gets out of the water as well, picking up his furs and putting one on across his body. You turn and look back at him, both of you half naked and exposed.
“Go to bed, little lady. Sleep well knowing you came out on top tonight.” He bows his head to you.
You smile at him. “Good night.”
Once Fall concedes to Winter, a bitter cold sets in like you’ve never felt before. It’s hard to get warm some days. Silvestrov has taken a job escorting caravans through the harsh winter paths, making sure much needed deliveries make it to some of the smaller villages. He’s gone for days at a time now, and you strangely begin to miss him.
One day, when he returns, it is pitch black out, and ice has begun to fall. He’s frosted over as he knocks on the door. “The shack is too cold, and I cannot get the fire warm enough.” He sits before your roaring fire and shakily takes off his gloves.
“I’ll make you a bed tonight. I can sleep with Severova. Let me make you something hot to drink.” You offer.
“I can rest here by the fire,” he growls. “No need to put yourself out.”
You make him hot tea, setting the warm mug into his hands when it is done. You then chip away his frozen scarf and a layer of fur from him, laying them aside to dry before the fire. His skin is so cold and chapped from the harsh winds.
“I will be here for a few days if you can tolerate it.”
“Severova misses you, I’m sure we will make due.” You put your hand around his forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for fever, just in case.” You remove your hand and sigh. “You’re so cold. Poor thing.”
“Don’t pity me now, little woman,” he scoffs.
You heat up a rag with the remaining water from the tea and place it around the top of his bald head. “I’ll do as I please. You cannot make me do anything.”
He grunts low in his chest. “That does feel a touch better.”
“I’ll make sure to have you an extra blanket tonight.” You move his boots closer to the fire to dry. “I doubt you’ll be warm for a while.”
“I am used to it.” His blood red eyes stare into the fire. The flames shine differently against the tight burns on his right side. “You never ask me about them.”
You jump slightly. “What?”
“My scars.” he looks you in the eye. “You’ve never asked me about them.”
“Not my place,” you say with a shake of the head. “My husband had burns too, from when he was small.”
He sniffs and looks back into the fire. “Fire broke out not long after Severova was born. A rival tribe attacked us, was going to steal what they could. One of their explosives hit me and I turned so Severova didn’t take any of the blast. I was barely healed from that when they attacked again. That’s when I hid her. I thought I could fend them off long enough, but they got me.”
You place your hand over his. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, Silvestrov.”
“No. I want you to know what I have done for that child.” He looks back into your eyes. “I would burn even in the hell of your goddess for her.”
“I know you would,” you say breathlessly. “I would too.”
He grabs your hand tight. “Would you risk your life for her?”
Your heart is beating fast. “Everyday if I had to.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He tilts his head to the side, still looking intently at you. “Like you’re thinking about something else.”
You take the wet rag off the top of his head and smooth it down his face. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He licks the corner of his mouth. “Because I fear you would hit me again.”
You chuckle and cup your hand around his face. “You would like that too much.”
Both of you have become extremely close, bodies touching, faces almost. He smirks at you, breathing raggedly. “I would.”
You close your eyes, losing your breath as he takes the first kiss. You press close to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you steal the second. You move into his lap, sitting on top of him. You pull back to catch your breath, feeling dizzy but elated.
“Little woman,” he growls into your ear, “I want you.” His hands push up your skirt, digging into your thighs though the thick tights. “I want to feel your skin so close to me it feels like my own. I have not desired this in so long.”
You kiss him softly, almost lovingly. “I want it too. Silvestrov, I want you.”
He kisses you hungrily, picking you up then laying you down beside the fire. He strips away your underclothes, pushing up your skirt so your belly and thighs are exposed. He removes what’s left of his clothes, tossing them around before looking down at you.
“Poor man,” you coo, running your hand down his body. “Come into my arms.” Silvestrov lowers himself down into your embrace, kissing you as you stroke down his bare back. You look into his eyes, smiling softly at his tender expression. “If you do this now, I will never let either of you go in the summer.”
“What makes you think I won’t be leaving with both of you.” He arches his hips and you feel him rub against your inner thigh. “I’ll teach you to survive too.”
Your breath shudders with need an excitement. “You can try.”
He kisses you then sits up, removing the rest of your clothes. His big hand strokes down your body, until his fingers reach the apex of your thighs. He growls in his chest as he touches you, rubbing you until you begin to sound wet. You close your eyes and throw your head back, biting your lip as he toys with you.
“Silvestrov,” you pant.
“Hold still.” He holds his hands onto your thighs. “Let me see.” His breath hitches as he gazes at you. Below, his cock is hard, throbbing with his pulse. It’s quite thick, curving upwards in a pleanset arch. Along the base there are studs under the skin. The tip is glistening, already dribbling with excitement and desire.
Silvestrov licks his fingers then lowers himself down. He lifts your legs, pinning then back near your ears. His breath beats against your skin as he takes his time working his way inside you. Your voice chokes in your throat, it’s been so long since you last laid like this with a man, it almost feels new again. He lays on top of you, pressing tightly together. His moans fill your senses while his warmth bubbles through your veins. He moves a bit sharply and by reflex you reach up and slap him. He moans in pleasure, trembling all the way down his spine.
You soon have him on his back though, riding above him so you can take your sweet time. It wasn’t much of a fight, all you had to do was take control. You plant your palms firmly on his stomach, moving your hips so that you feel him deep inside.
“I like this,” he moans. “Seeing you above me.”
You whimper, biting your lip as you steady your breath. “I like it too.” You smirk down at him. “I can take my time with you.” You smooth your hand over his face then slap him, causing his hips to thrust up inside you while a powerful growl grows in his chest.
“Again,” he moans.
You slap his face again and his hips buck harder, making you cry out loudly. You cup your hand over your mouth, looking back towards the hallway.
His fingers knead into your hips in rear, helping to guide you as you move upon him. “One more,” he begs. “One more please.”
“Hold on,” you pant, grinding yourself harder against him. “Hold on!” You throw your head back.
“Yes,” he snarls. “Hurry!”
You surge and gasp, moving yourself forward and slapping him as hard as you can muster. He bucks, hard, nearly throwing you. His goes fast suddenly, thrusting from below you. You can’t hold on, you feel cross eyed. The fire twinkles, exploding into stars and bursts of color.
His triumphant laugh fades into moans and pitiful whines. His hips still, his body goes limp upon the floor. You fear moving from him that you might fall down. You shakily hold yourself up, rising only slightly to allow his cock to slap against his belly.
“Come now.” He helps ease you down onto the floor beside him. “There.”
“You’re too loud.”
“She sleeps through anything,” he whispers into your ear.
You look up at him, dreamy eyed and sleepy. “You can’t leave me, Silvestrov.”
He kisses you softly. “Come summer, we can discuss this.”
“No, we will talk about it now.”
“I cannot think let alone picture the future,” he breathes. “You have taken my life, my soul, between our thighs.”
“Exactly,” you whisper into his ear. “And I will hold it all my life.”
Spring arrives early, thawing the land just as eagerly as Winter had taken over Fall. Things are turning green and all the roads have become passable. By the time Summer arrives, Silvestrov has bought Seveova her own horse and has been teaching her to ride. She’s been calling him Daddy since before Spring, which caused him nothing but jubilation.
“When do you plan on leaving today?” I ask him each morning.
“Still too early,” he says with a wink to Severova.
She giggles, eating her food without a second thought. Some nights I still cling to him tightly, keeping him as close to me as possible. But the days go by and I fear him leaving less and less.
“This is for you,” he says one day. He hands me a necklace with an iron ring in the center, and big wooden beads along the string. He places it around my neck while Severova watches. “Please, accept it.”
I run my fingers along the beads then smile up at him. “And if I do?”
He grins and picks me up, hoisting me into the air as Severova cheers from the floor. She runs up, hugging his leg tight. “Mama! Daddy!” She laughs happily.
“I will love you all my days,” he whispers into my ear. “My little woman.”
By the time Fall returns, he’s built a stable and has bought another horse. I know he’s not going anywhere, I told him not to. And since I am his little woman, he can do nothing but obey.
