10 #2
“I should not have been this way with you,” he said to her. “You’re not for me.”
“I think you must come with me when I go back to the south,” she said.
He made a funny noise.
“I am not saying that I can do much for you there,” she said. “But there are opportunities in the city, even for orcs, and perhaps, if you worked at some trade you could… we could…”
“No, we couldn’t,” he said.
“Well, it would take some doing, I suppose. I would need to get money somehow, too, but we could go somewhere together, somewhere away from everyone, just the two of us, and we could—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, we could not.”
She was hurt. She pulled away and looked him over. “You seemed eager for me a moment ago.”
He took one of the rags from her and began to tie it around his own leg. “You’ll want children, Aerhril.”
“That’s what you say?” She furrowed her brow, looking him over. Why could she not tear her gaze away from the place where his cock tented the coverlet he’d thrown over himself?
“Everyone does, eventually,” he said. “It’s just how people are. You might think you don’t want them now, but you’ll get older and you’ll think of your own mortality and you’ll want someone to live on in your stead once you are gone. You’ll want children.”
“Well, I suppose I still don’t know how that even works,” she whispered.
He met her gaze. “Right. You wouldn’t.”
She swallowed, trying to get up the courage to ask him, baldly, to explain it, but instead she said, “We could, though, you and me.”
“No,” he said. “I told you, I won’t. I will never pass this on.” He gestured at himself. “A child with you would be more elf than orc, but still orc enough that it would be even worse for him than it is for me. Or… if it was a girl? It would be the worst of all.”
“If we were away from everyone—”
“You can’t keep a child away from everyone,” he said firmly.
“Maybe I won’t want children,” she said.
“You will,” he said. “And even if not, it’s not fair to you. You’d be diminished by me. You would have no one else. Your family would shun you—”
“You don’t know that they—”
“I do, and so do you,” he said. “You’d resent me for it. We do not have a future, fair elf, daughter of the gold fingered dawn. You know it. I know it. Best to snuff out any painful fantasies that say otherwise.”
She would have fought with him, but she sort of had to admit he was right. She did not wish to say that out loud, for it was horrible. She reached down and feathered her fingers over his face, over his jaw, his chin.
He shut his eyes and leaned in to her touch.
“It isn’t fair, though,” she said, finally.
“And I cannot leave you to Celedin. They’ll send for me, and they’ll send a ticket for the train, and it will be for one of the sleeping compartments in the front, and I will trade it for two tickets in the middle part of the train, and you will have one of the tickets, and you will leave this place.
Even if we aren’t together, or we can’t be, you will not stay here. ”
He opened his eyes. “Maybe,” he whispered.
“Maybe.” And then he was touching her, his hands on her hips, smoothing over them through her skirts, on her waist and then higher, spanning her ribs.
His thumbs brushed quickly and deliciously over her breasts.
She let out a breathy cry, and he pulled her down and kissed her again.
She lost her balance and collapsed into him.
They fell back on his bed and their kissing turned fierce.
Her skirts were pushed high. He was pressed into her.
He had his hand on her thigh, sliding it further and further into her skirts, over her drawers, over the outer wall of her body.
His palm was so thick it spanned her there, gripped her, held her in place as he pressed his cock into the soft low protrusion of her belly.
She angled her hips, trying to rub the most sensitive part of her against it, wanting that, thinking that must be it, that must be how it worked, only… “Why does it get hard?” And then she realized she’d said that aloud.
He panted into her neck. “To fit into your opening, Aerhril, come now.”
Oh, may she be burned to ash in the fires of the dawn, that could not be. “You would never fit,” she gasped in a panic. “You are far too large.”
“I would fit.” He kissed her jaw. “It might be snug, but I would like that.”
She mewled.
“We will never do that,” he grunted. “Never.”
“But…”
“That is how men get babes on women, Aerhril. So. Never.”
She reached between them and put her hand on it. She wanted to feel it against her palm. She could not help it.
He whimpered. “What are you doing?”
It was hot and quite, quite firm, but the skin on it was so very satiny, and she liked touching it.
He reached down, seized her wrist, slammed her hand down into the bed above her head, and pinned her arm there.
She gasped.
He was breathing very hard.
“Apologies,” she whispered.
He kissed her. “You cannot do that.”
“But I like it,” she said. “I like that part of your body. Tell me I can look at it again, please.”
He groaned. He kissed her again. “No, Aerhril, no.”
She let out a sigh of disappointment. “All right,” she said in surrender. “All right, then.”
He kissed her. He put his hand on her breast again.
That felt so good. She writhed into him.
He was off her, standing up at the end of the bed, nude, his cock pointing directly at her. His voice was strangled. “You have to go now.”
So, she left.
But he let her look at it again, obviously. And he let her stroke it, and he let her put it in her mouth, and he let her do all sorts of things with it. Never that, of course. He never put it inside her.
Most of that was after they knew she wasn’t going home, though, she supposed.
Most of that was when things seemed especially hopeless.