Orc Boyfriend: Silvestrov 2 (complete)

Special cover art by @artcelestial 

Female Reader x Male Monster

Autumn is barely a blink, before winter seemed to make itself known. Harsh ice storms have already blocked the roads, and heavy snows are quickly sealing them up. You open your hot springs to the men and women who are trying to chop through the ice to let in suppliers from the south. Since the winter is coming in a hurry, not many people have a chance to finish stocking their cellars. The cold is harsh, but the hot springs offer relief from the pain, and help the workers’ aching hands and joints. Silvestrov has been joining them, but he never takes advantage of the hot springs. Instead, he goes and sits by the fire, showing Severnova how to properly use an ice pick.

One evening, after Silvestrov has tucked Severova to bed, you’re crushing dried herbs to rub onto the chicken you bought at the market. Silvestrov sits by the fire, warming his hands. He’s having trouble closing his fist as he slowly works his fingers. “You work hard, but you do nothing to heal up after.” you complain. “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 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?”

He smirks up at you. “To glimpse their firm and naked bodies?”

Your jaw clenches and you stare him down with daggers 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’s 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 young ones is both cathartic and bonding.”

You slam the pan down on the counter and turn on him. “You are not fighting that little girl! 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 fight and hunt. She will not be a delicate little homemaker like you.”

“Who says? 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! 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. “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. She will love you. She probably already does.”

“You were angry with me, and now you want to comfort me?” Silvestrov laughs sadly.

“I can be many things at once, but if I were you, I wouldn’t test me.” you grumble under your breath as you look back at the chicken.

“Fuck!” Silvestrov suddenly hisses 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.”

“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 overworked. I’m 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?”

“I just need hot water.”

You stomp your foot. “The waters of the springs are heated by the magma flowing through the veins of the goddess Krynova, blessed with her holy endowments.”

Silvestrov throws his head back and laughs. “You believe in that religious bullshit?”

You want to slap him again, but you stay 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. It hurts, really badly, 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 pigheaded nonsense, then you are sorely mistaken! You speak to a lady - no, to everyone - with common fucking curtousy! Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again!” You hold your hand to your chest. Already your knuckles have begun to bruise.

Silvestrov rubs his jaw. “Can’t say I’ve ever received such a tender punch. 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 to the door. “I’m going to go soak my fist. You’d 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, and 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.

“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 thrive.”

“I thought I told you...”

“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’s warm,” he says with a shrug. “It’s night out and something like you would smell very good to an animal that may not have eaten today.”

You smirk at him. “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, and slip into the water before taking 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 sinks into the water, lounging with his arms stretched out. You keep your eyes averted, 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’s silent again. You won’t look directly at each other, 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 at the warm, glowing windows. “I wanted to make you angry.”

“Thank you,” you murmur from surprise. “I appreciate that”

“I wanted to hurt you, because it hurts me when I see you with Severova.” Silvestrov looks you dead in the eye. “I see how much she prefers you, and it is a knife in my heart.”

“Oh. I… I’m sorry.” You press your lips together regretfully. “I thought...”

“I almost died trying to protect her,” Silvestrov whispers. “Everything that I am now is for her. And seeing her with you is 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, and it rips me apart. Because this may be the last winter I have with her...” Tears well up in your eyes. “And it makes me want to beat you to death.”

Silvestrov chuckles. “Then why haven’t you?”

You look at him and a smile comes to your face. You laugh and shake your head, and continue to laugh for a while. After you stop, you’re still smiling. “I really should, shouldn’t I?”

You stand 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.” Silvestrov bows his head to you.

You smile at him. “Good night.”

Once fall concedes to winter, a bitter cold like you’ve never felt before sets in. It’s hard to get warm some days. Silvestrov has taken a job escorting caravans through the passes, making sure much-needed deliveries make it to some of the smaller villages. He’s gone for days at a time now, and you begin to miss him. One day when he returns, night has already fallen, and a heavy snowfall is descending. 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. Then you peel away his frozen scarf and furs, laying them aside to dry before the fire. His skin is 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 do.” You put your hand around Sivestrov’s 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 reflect differently in the shiny burns on his right side. “You never ask me about them.”

You jump slightly. “What?”

“My scars.” Silvestrov looks you in the eye. “You’ve never asked me about them.”

“That’s not my place,” you say with a shake of the head. “My husband had burns too, from an early age.”

He sniffs and looks back into the fire. “Fire broke out not long after Severova was born. A rival tribe attacked us, to steal what they could. One of their explosives hit me, and I shielded Severova from the blast. I was barely healed 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. I would burn in the hell of your goddess for her.”

“I know you would,” you say. “I would too.”

He grasps your hand tightly. “Would you risk your life for her?”

Your heart is beating fast. “Every day, if I had to.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Silvestrov 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 are extremely close, bodies touching, faces nearly touching. Silvestrov smirks at you, breathing raggedly. “I would.”

You close your eyes as he kisses you. You press close to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving into his lap. 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 your 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 and laying you down beside the fire. He strips away your underclothes, pushing up your skirt so your stomach and thighs are exposed. He removes what’s left of his clothes, tossing them aside before looking down at you.

“Poor man,” you coo, running your hands down his body. “Come into my arms.” Silvestrov lowers himself 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?” Silvestrov arches his hips, and you feel him rub against your inner thigh. “I’ll teach you to survive, too.”

Your breath shudders with need and excitement. “You can try.”

He kisses you, then sits up to remove 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 feel wet. You close your eyes and throw your head back, biting your lip as he toys with you. “Silvestrov,” you pant.

“Hold still. Let me see.” His breath hitches as he gazes at you. His cock is hard, throbbing with his pulse. It’s quite thick, curving upwards in a pleasant arch, and the base is pierced with studs. The tip is glistening, already dribbling with excitement and desire.

Silvestrov licks his fingers, then lowers himself. He lifts your legs, and his breath beats against your skin as he takes his time working his way inside you. You utter a strangled moan. It’s been so long since you last lay with a man, it almost feels new again. He settles on top of you, and 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, riding him so you can take your sweet time. 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. Silvestrov’s fingers knead into your hips and rear, helping to guide you as you move. “One more,” he begs. “One more, please.”

“Hold on,” you pant, grinding yourself harder against him. “Hold on!”

“Yes,” he growls. “Hurry!”

You buck and gasp, slapping him as hard as you can muster. He thrusts his hips, hard, nearly throwing you over. You can’t hold on, and your vision swims. The fire twinkles, exploding into stars and bursts of color.

Silvestrov’s triumphant laugh fades away into moans and whimpers. His hips go still, and his body goes limp. You fear you might fall down if you try to move off him. 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.”

“Severnova 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. “In the 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 overtook fall. Things are turning green, and all the roads have become passable. By the time summer arrives, Silvestrov has bought Severnova her own horse and is teaching her to ride. She’s been calling him Daddy since before spring, which causes him nothing but jubilation.

“When do you plan on leaving today?” you ask him each morning.

“It’s still too early,” he says with a wink to Severnova. She giggles, eating her food with happy abandon.

Some nights you still cling to him tightly, keeping him as close as possible. But as the days go by you fear him leaving less and less.

“This is for you,” he says one day, handing you a necklace with big wooden beads and an iron ring in the center. He places it around your neck while Severnova watches. “Please, accept it.”

You run your fingers along the beads, then smile up at him. “And if I do?”

He grins and picks you up, hoisting you into the air as Severnova squeals happily. She runs up, hugging Silvestrov’s leg tight. “Mama! Daddy!” she laughs happily.

“I will love you all my days,” he whispers into your ear. “My little woman.”

By the time fall returns, Silvestrov has built a stable and bought another horse. You know he’s not going anywhere, because you told him not to. And since you are his little woman, he can do nothing but obey.