Haley Thistle
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Bicorn Boyfriend: Torvald 2 (complete)
🕑 Added 2020-08-05 19:00:02 +0000 UTC
I once read that Unicorns eat the hearts of the guilty, while Bicorns eat the flesh of the innocent. Something about it confused me in my youth. Why the heart? Why the flesh? It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized a guilty heart is tender from neglect, and the flesh is rotten, while the flesh of the innocent is tender and sweet, and the heart is tough and strong. I was told that Unicorns and Bicorns were hunted because their horns were extremely valuable. I think they were hunted out of fear, and the horns became a byproduct. Looking at Torvald, I wonder if he has eaten the flesh of innocent men.
The wedding is barely a ceremony, more a business transaction than anything. I sign my name on a piece of paper, and I am given a necklace bearing the Rothschild crest. Carmine has a new father, and I have a new husband, although we will only be coupled when we share a bed.
Torvald buys me and Carmine matching dresses, and provides a wonderful meal before the paper is signed. He gives Carmine a wonderful nursery filled to the brim with everything she could ever want or need during her first few years, and hires a small staff of wonderful nannies and nurses to look after her while we have our supposed honeymoon.
He takes me further north to a chateau he shares with his two younger brothers. It’s big enough that I could evade him if I wanted, and I suppose he could hide from me if he liked. The place is rather stark, and almost everything is done in black and white.
“It was all we could agree upon, since we all three had to share it,” Torvald tells me. “My brothers and I have varying taste.”
“Do either of them have anything else to offer besides a cold shoulder?” I remove layers of fur and warm clothing.
Torvald laughs. “My shoulder will not be cold tonight, my bride.”
I cannot help but roll my eyes at him. I continue to explore the ice-covered chateau, finding very little personality within. I come across Torvald later, in a room that is white from floor to ceiling except for the fireplace, which is like an iris in the eye, the pupil enlarged with joy, burning with passion.
He’s sitting in a high-backed chair, lounging and drinking a wine that is almost black. He barely acknowledges me as I walk into the room.
“Should we have dinner, or perhaps just get the evening over with?” Torvald asks.
I sit beside him in another white chair. I feel rather garish in my blue dress amongst all the white. “Are you so eager?”
“Rosemund, my bride, I may not believe love has a purpose, but I do know a man and woman can still enjoy their moments together.” He takes a breath slowly and purposefully, exhaling slowly before drawing another sip of wine to his lips. “I’m not sure which I like most - this wine, or the taste of a woman’s heat.”
I arch my brows. “Are you trying to excite me?”
“I will not fit without you being wet and eager, Rosemund.” Torvald shrugs nonchalantly. “I do not want this to be a painful experience for either of us.”
“Until the baby arrives,” I correct him.
Torvald sits erect. “You are a good mother, and it will be worth it.”
I rest my cheek against the chair and look at his profile, the way the dark brown mingles with the white patches. He appears somewhat stitched together. He is not awful-looking. In fact, I rather envy his long silver hair, and have found myself wondering what it would be like to run my fingers through it.
“Will you be a good father?” I ask.
Torvald sighs. “I can’t say. I can provide well enough, but all I know is Carmine. I cannot say what I will be to the children you gift me with.”
“You know I am not strong like most. Carmine was a miracle born from comfort and my own determination. How can you be sure I will give you anything but disappointment?”
“Because you’ll fall in love with me.”
I throw my head back and start to cackle. I slap my palm against the arm of the chair, then quickly move to hold my aching ribs.
“You find that funny?” Torvald’s tone is calm and even.
I wipe my eyes of tears, then let out another guffaw. “What sort of pompous, egotistical idiot are you? You think I will fall in love with you? Do you think everyone will fall at your feet?”
“I fully expect almost everyone to hate me. But I know you will love me. Not now, of course, but over time.” He sips his wine again.
“I would rather dissect you than love you.”
His eyes fall on me. Those eyes that remind me of my husband so much. “You will kiss me one day, and beg me to say the words back to you.”
I stand from my chair with a huff. “If you want to touch me, you’ll shut up.”
He raises his glass to me. “Fair enough.”
That evening, Torvald has supper served in our chambers. The dinner is intimately close, and I drink my first glass of wine too fast. Torvald eats slowly, seeming to pick his morsels carefully.
“Do you plan on finishing once you have finished inside me?” I quip.
Torvald licks his chops, placing an olive on his tongue. “Are you looking forward to that moment?” he asks. “Tell me, before we do it - what do you enjoy most about sex?”
I think for a moment. “Well, if it helps you with anything… what I enjoy most, when it first begins, is being opened by a man’s shaft. The way that first stroke inside feels so luxurious and needed, like it’s been missing for so long.”
Torvald’s pupils dilate, becoming darker than before. “My favorite is when I feel my partner lose control,” he says. “When they come to the edge and topple over it. The feeling of their body quivering and convulsing, the way their loins palpate and squeeze around me.”
I take a bite of my food, trying to act as though his words don’t bother me. “Not even your own orgasm?”
“It’s on the top of the list, but for a different reason,” he chuckles. He pushes a plate of strawberries soaked in champagne towards me. “Tell me, dear wife - how would you like for this night to unfold?”
“My curiosity has the best of me. You’ve talked so much about yourself and your talents that part of me wants to see you succeed, and another wants to watch you fail.”
I take one of the strawberries and bite into it. The juice and champagne dribble down my chin to my neck and between my breasts. Torvald’s eyes follow the pink stream of liquid, and his nostrils flare. “If I fail, then we both will have a horrible evening.”
I give him a smug wink. “Says you.”
Torvald leans over, pressing his tongue to my chest and licking up my neck. I hold my breath from the surprise, and as he bites my neck, I let it out in a shudder. His hand goes up my skirt, stroking my leg and gripping my small thigh.
“I know you’re curious about anatomy, and so am I. Such a small frame you have, and yet you’ve carried life. I cannot wait to watch your lips spread to take my cock inside.” He breathes these words into my ear, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. “More than anything, I cannot wait to watch you orgasm.” He moans against my skin. My nipples grow painfully hard.
His fingers make quick work of the buttons on my dress, and he pulls it away from my breasts and breathes against my flesh. My nipples are leaking. I am used to feeding Carmine around this time. He takes my nipple into his mouth and drinks the milk while I sink my fingers into his silver hair. It’s so thick, I almost get tangled in it. I pull at his scalp, making him moan.
He looks at me, his eyes wide, almost wild with delight. As we kiss, I am overcome by ravenous hunger. I bite his tongue, nip his neck, and beg him to remove all his clothes for me.
I sit in my chair as he stands before me. The mottled brown and white covers every inch of him. His belly looks soft and heavy, but it is his cock that my eyes focus on. Settled between two fat thighs, it throbs in anticipation. It is indeed as thick as I imagined, white at the base, then dark brown, and a bright candy-pink at the tip. I taste his glans, slowly twisting my tongue around it. He moans above me, standing still as I study him. I am growing wetter by the moment, excited to feel such a thing open me. I have not been with anyone since Carmine was conceived, and I have not feasted at all.
Torvald picks me up and carries me to the bed. His fingers rub my small, drenched mound while a look of superiority crosses his face. His thick finger slips inside me while his thumb gently rubs against the aching bud above my lips.
“You flow like a river. What a surprise,” he chuckles. That deep voice vibrates in my ear and down through my limbs. “I figured it would take time to make you pliant.” He opens me with his fingers, and writhes when I moan. “Your husband was a fool.”
“What do you mean?” I pant.
“He traveled and left this behind?” His fingers squelch noisily inside me. “If you would let me, I would never leave this warm, wet sample of heaven.”
I am close to having my eyes roll into the back of my head. His touch is practiced and indescribable. “Just… just fuck me. Okay?” I manage to snap. “Enough chatter, enough whatever it is you’re doing. Just do what you’re here for.”
He is silent after that. He places his thick form on top of me and opens me slowly. That first sensation I love so much nearly knocks the breath out of me. His girth stretches my inner walls, tests the muscle I worked so hard to build. I lose my breath as he takes his marital reward.
I lose track of the night, and even myself. I have been starving for so long that I make up for lost time. I forget everything in those lost hours, and all I know is the pleasure of his body and how he pours it into me. Our honeymoon becomes indulgent so very quickly. Those first few days, my body begs for more and more. Torvald gives himself over, delivering to me the satisfaction my body craves. I am saturated with him; his sweat, his saliva, his essence seeps into every inch of my body. I feel less like myself, and more like some ravenous creature. It is almost as though I am in an animal heat, and to my surprise I enjoy it.
Torvald kisses my belly after he leaves himself inside me. I realize he does this in hopes of a son.
“Once we get back, I want you to take things easy. I want my seed to take root right away.” He enjoys coffee with his breakfast, and the smell is one I have grown to enjoy during our time together.
“After this weekend, I fear I may have to teach myself to walk again.” I eat the hearty bacon and sop up the grease with a biscuit.
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Torvald almost purrs. “But more than that, I am glad our bodies are compatible.”
“Yes. It’s made this union tolerable.”
I am excited to see Carmine again when we return to the castle. I don’t see Torvald for a few days after that, but when I do, our bodies cry out for each other. I poke his belly as he tries to sleep, and he knocks my hand aside. “Do you think it’s funny?” he scoffs.
“I rather envy it,” I confess. “I’m quite bony and thin. I’ve always wanted some softness.” I squeeze his ass, and he growls. “Something to hold on to.”
“You have long legs. That’s plenty to hold,” Torvald grunts. “Now go to sleep.” His hand rests over my belly. “Let my son come into existence.”
Much like with Carmine, the pregnancy makes me weak and tired. I am given a wheelchair again, and Torvald moves me to a room where I get plenty of sunlight. He sees to me every day, keeping track of how the pregnancy is going. As time passes, I notice a softness to him that doesn’t come from his belly. Even his horns seem less threatening.
I am put on bed rest soon after. I keep Carmine by my side with her nanny, and it is nice to have their presence. One day, I wake from a nap to find the room quite dark. Carmine and her nanny aren’t there, but someone else is.
“Did I wake you?” Torvald asks quietly.
“No.” I roll my head over in the direction of his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching you sleep,” he says.
I sigh and relax a little into the bed. “And why would you do that?”
Torvald walks to the edge of the bed, a dark outline. “Do you love me yet?”
“No. I do not.” I look up at him, following the lines of his horns. “Do you love me yet?”
Torvald sits down on the edge of the bed. “I told you I don’t think love has a purpose. I don’t think it will serve anything.”
“Then why do you love me anyway?” I ask.
Torvald laughs, and the sound is ominous in the dark room. “How cocky you are just because you’re pregnant. Do not mistake that for love.”
“I’m not. I see you, and that’s all I need.” I try to sit up, but find the effort too hard. Torvald’s hand slides under my back and helps ease me up. “Was it when you ate my husband?”
Torvald goes stiff.
“When he died, what did you eat? Was it his flesh? Or did you eat his heart?” I move my hair off my shoulder, then smooth away the strands that cling to my cheek. I had assumed early on that Torvald’s treatment of me had been out of guilt. I came to realize in the midst of our honeymoon that it was for another reason.
“I did not kill him,” he whispers. “He fell off the horse and broke his neck.” His voice quivers. “But I ate his flesh and drank his blood like wine. That is what my kind do, and that is how we survive. I didn’t expect him to seep into my bones and my mind,” he snarls. “It was as if part of him took over me. But he was nothing! He had no strength. All he had was...”
“His love for me. I knew it,” I sigh sleepily.
“But I do not love you,” he hisses.
“Yes, you do.” I stroke my hand up his arm. “He made you open to me. He poured his love inside you so that I would be safe. He is here.” I place my palm on his chest. “And here.” I squeeze his belly. “You’ve belonged to me all along. You were just afraid.”
“I am the master here.” Torvald’s argument is weak.
“No, I am.” I kiss his cheek. “You bit off more than you could chew, my husband, and I am glad of it. Now lie down beside me. I’m quite cold.”
Torvald is quiet. He is overwhelmed, but somehow completely at peace. It will take him time, but he will eventually give up and let it take hold. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I just did.” I lay down beside him and snuggle up against him, using his thick arm as a pillow. “He was protecting me all this time. I’m glad.”
“It terrifies me,” Torvald snarls angrily.
“Of course it does.” I rub my hand up and down his chest. “Someone like you is taken down by something so simple, it is to laugh.”
I give birth to a baby boy on an uneventful and sunny morning. He comes out mottled like his father, with tiny pink fingers and toes. He’s very small, even compared to his sister when she was born. Luckily, he is a relatively quiet and calm baby, but his appetite matches his father’s.
Torvald holds him like a fragile piece of porcelain. He looks at him, awed and baffled by this strange creature in his home. He looks at his son like he is impossible.
“You need to name him,” I say gently. “You are his father, and it’s your job to give him something he will be proud of.”
The baby begins to cry, and Torvald hands him to me so I can feed him. “I keep searching for a name, but all I see is you.”
I look up from the baby at my breast to make sure he is serious. “You really do love me.”
Torvald cups his hands over his face. “I feel breathless and powerless. I am constantly fearing it every time I breathe. But when I see him, I forget how to breathe.”
The baby grunts at my breast. “Then his name is Abel,” I say firmly.
Torvald looks up at me, his bright eyes watery and red around the rims. “Abel?”
“A breath,” I say with a smile. “So you’ll remember to breathe.”
I wake one morning to the sound of rain. The children are with the nanny so I can sleep, but I cannot find rest. I take my wheelchair to Torvald’s room. As I enter, I see him standing naked on the porch, letting himself become drenched in the cold rain.
“What on earth are you doing?” I chuckle. “Trying to impress the thunder?”
Torvald turns, his long silver hair plastered to his body. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I think I sensed you were doing something ridiculous.” I roll the wheelchair over to the bed and climb in. “Also, I was cold.”
Torvald closes the door and stands naked before me. I drink him in slowly like he does his wine. The water slips down his skin, making the candlelight shimmer in the dew. I breathe in the scent of rain on his skin, lick the droplets from his side and coax him closer to me. My body is not yet ready, but I can feel that hunger inside me all the same. I fear my appetite for this man and welcome it all the same.
Torvald slips his fingers under my chin. “Do not excite me. I cannot have you to myself yet.”
“Dry off and come back to bed.” I lie back down to wait for him. I close my eyes until I feel his weight on the bed. Once he comes close, I open my eyes and watch him. “I don’t want to sleep separately anymore,” I tell him. “I want you in my chambers every night.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because you’re my husband and I want you there.” I rub my hand across his belly. “You’re the father of my children, present and future.” I can still smell rain on his skin, and when I kiss his chest, I feel that rapid pulse of his heart. “Do you love me?”
“You know the answer,” he growls.
I press my lips to his temple, just below his horn. I kiss his ear and whisper softly so only he can hear. “I love you too.”
Torvald chuckles. “I told you that you would.”
“Only because you wanted me to. Now, I love you because I want to.” I kiss him and lie back down on the bed. “Once I am able, I want to study again.”
“I know,” he whispers. “I’m prepared.”
We lie together in silence as the rain pours down outside. I hear him breathing, but I know he doesn’t fall asleep.
“What weighs heavy on your mind?” I ask.
He breathes through his nose. “Why don’t you hate me?”
“Because I know what’s in your heart.” I chuckle. “I don’t quite understand it myself. All I know is that I simply don’t.”
“Will you one day?” Torvald’s voice is breathless.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to say.” I close my eyes and listen to the beating of his heart even out. “I guess we’ll find out.”
For our anniversary, Torvald takes me back to the house where I married my first husband, where Carmine was born. It’s warm there, and he has had it made into a summer home for us, with a garden and treehouses for the children.
“Are you sure you want to be here?” I ask him.
“Part of me belongs here,” he says, holding a sleeping Carmine in his lap. “It will always be home.”
Abel is still nursing, and his chubby hands knead against my breast. I eventually lay them both down to sleep with the nanny and return to my husband. I take him inside me, and I make love to him very deliberately and slowly. I study his body, his reactions, every muscle spasm.
“I never thought I’d have such a thing,” he breathes.
“Does it still scare you?” I moan.
He nods, breathless and trembling. “Of course it does,” he sighs.
I kiss him, tangling his silver locks around my fingers. “Is that alright?”
“Yes,” he moans. His fingers dig into my hips and grinds against me. “Do you love me still?”
“Yes.” I cup my hands around his face. “More than I can fathom.”
