Polar Onikuma Boyfriend: Tipalov

The Polar is a rather cold and unforgiving place, especially for those who have never ventured there before. Having packed extra coats, you thought you were prepared, but you had no clue just how frigid the Polar could get. Traveling there on your own was another mistake. Usually, this was a journey your parents took to sell their wares and earn extra money, but this year your father is not well and your mother does not want to leave his side.

You volunteer to take the journey for them, joining the caravan that travels through the Polar each year during the winter. Your family sells proprietary tea blends, most of which were highly sought after. The money is too good to give up, so as much as your family hates for you to go alone, there is no helping it. 

You have made the journey up and are nearly out of inventory. The Royal Village that surrounds the palace bought just about everything you had. You even got to sell tea to Queen Katrina herself, who had come down from the palace just to buy the spicy tea she loves so much. Now the trek to return home is facing difficulties. The winter is turning much harsher, and the path you took up has been made impassable by snow and ice. The other available path is old and reliable, but much longer than the new road.

The winter winds are growing harsher each day, and the snow has not stopped for over four days now. Each morning you wake up, the white sea becomes all the more endless before you. You get up early with everyone else in order to dig out your wagons.

You have been feeling sluggish for some time now, but you chalk it up to not being used to this cold climate. Soon, though, exhaustion is taking hold of you. One afternoon, you doze off in the seat of your wagon, and when you come to again, the caravan is gone and your wagon is frozen in place. 

“Oh, no. Oh, no.” Panic fast sets in as you stumble from your seat. You quickly unhitch your horse and knock the snow from him. You stumble about, looking through the endless white. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. The trail has snowed over on both sides, and you have no idea where to turn.

You hop onto your horse’s back, taking a small bag with you just in case, and turn the way you came, hoping to find the village you passed through some time ago. But the winds have other plans for you. They whip up the snow, causing you to go blind there is so much white. Your horse stops at one point, unable to keep moving ahead itself. Tossing and shaking, your horse throws you from its back and runs off into the snow. 

It’s growing dark, and you feel that all is lost. You stand up from the snow, but already it’s starting to cling to your legs and freeze. You collapse again, coughing out frigid air.

You clasp your hands together, shaking horribly. “Please,” you whisper to whoever will hear you. “I beg of you.” You turn your head up towards the bright moon. It is the only direction you know of for sure. “If only my family gets this money… that is all I pray!” You gaze up at the moon for a while long as the snowflakes cling to your lashes.

You start to close your eyes when you think you hear something approaching. You can hear the crunching of the snow as someone walks across it. They grunt and sniff, and something grabs the back of your neck, lifting you from the ground.

You wake to the crackle and pop of a fire. You can smell the distant scent of coffee, and just outside, the wind hisses as it strikes against the windows. You sit up from the bed, and a hot water bottle falls away from your legs. Your wet clothes are hung to dry by the fire, and you quickly cover yourself.

“Oh gods, someone has undressed me,” you grumble under your breath. You search around the room, but only see a shadow moving beyond the closed door. Someone shuffles outside before pressing the door open.

You hold the blankets tight around you as they walk inside. Their thick arms are loaded with wood, which they set down by the fireplace. 

“You awake then?” The stranger’s voice is a low growl. “Good, you didn’t die.” He stands up and dusts his paws on his pants. “Last time I found someone in the snow like that they didn’t make it.”

You just stare up at him silently. 

He’s one of the Polar Bears. His fur is thick and white, fluffing up over the edge of his collar. He scoops off his hat and rubs the top of his head until his fur there stands up again. 

“Oh dear,” he grumbles. “Do you not speak the language?” He starts to gesture grandly. “You! Are! Alive!” He speaks slowly and loudly as if that will somehow help.

“I understand you!” you huff at him. “I’m just trying to process that I almost died.”

“Oh, well then, good thing you can understand me. I don’t know much else about language.” He tosses a log onto the fire, then immediately starts removing his clothes.

“What are you doing?” you blurt at him, scooting to the other side of the bed.

“It’s hot.” He strips off his shirt and tosses it over the bedpost. “I only stay dressed outside. Inside, it’s way too hot.”

His chest is a wall of white fur and hard muscle. He looks like he harvests the heaviest blocks of ice all day, then gorges on meat as he deadlifts tree trunks in his sleep. You know people in the Polar grow big, but this one looks like he never got the memo to stop growing. 

“I would normally agree with that logic, except for the fact that I am stark naked!” You try to keep as little skin as showing as you snap at him.

“Sleeping in those wet clothes wouldn’t have done you any good. It might have done you in,” he grunts. “You think, being alive, you’d be grateful.”

You shake your head in frustration. “I am grateful, but being a naked woman in a bed with a strange man undressing in front of her rings a lot of alarm bells!”

His ears stand up. “Oh,” he starts. “I suppose that’s true.” He takes the shirt he just removed and hands it to you. “Don’t have any lady clothes.”

“Why would you?” you grump as you take his offering.

He thinks for a moment. “For fun?” He points at the fireplace. “That’s hot now, don’t get too close to it.”

You wonder what is running through his mind, if anything.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, then,” he says as he takes hold of the doorknob. “If you’re hungry, there’s food out there.” He closes the door as he leaves.

You huff, dropping the blanket so you can put the shirt on.

The door opens again as you do. “You needn’t be worried about being naked though. The house is warm enough, and you’ve got a nice figure.”

“Get out!”you yelp as you quickly cover your breasts.

He shrugs, then ducks out, only to pop back in again. “Tipalov is my name, if you need anything.”

“I need you to get out!” you shout.

He chuckles. “Right!” He leaves, and you sit there for a few moments to wait and see if he pops back in again. You grumble under your breath, putting on the top that hangs around you like an ugly dress. But at least it’s warm and you’re covered.

You leave the bedroom to find Tipalov is in the kitchen, skewering fish over the fire. “Oh good, you can walk.”

You scowl at him. “A lot of things are happening, and I am trying not to panic. But what the heck does that mean?”

“Oh - well, considering how long you were in the cold you could have gotten some nerve damage.” He shakes his head. “I just didn’t want to say anything to upset you when you woke up.”

All you can do it block it out and move on. “Yes, well, thank you for saving me.”

“Oh, no problem!” he says brightly. “I was out that way anyway, so you were quite lucky. Although I was a wee bit lost myself.”

You wonder if he’d even feel anything if you hit him upside the head. “You know, sometimes you just take a compliment and move on.”

“I was fishing,” he replies. 

“Okay,” you murmur. “Well, in any case, was there a bag with me when you found me?” You describe the size of it with your hands. “It was brown leather and had brass buttons all over. There was a box with a gold lock inside the bag.”

“Yeah, you had it.” He points to the door where the bag is hanging. “You wouldn’t let go of it.”

You rush over to the bag and take hold of it, quickly searching the contents and finding the lockbox unharmed. “Oh, thank goodness!”

Tipalov rises from the fire and tilts his head to the side. “Important?”

“You have no idea,” you sigh. “I need to get this home as soon as I possibly can.”

“Well, that may take a while,” he sighs. “Snowstorm set in while you were sleeping. It would be unsafe to travel now, and probably impossible.”

“What?” you gasp. “For how long?”

Tipalov frowns. “Impossible is a sort of forever thing, isn’t it?”

You shake your hand in the air. You’re worried his brain has been replaced by muscle.  “No, no, I mean how long will we be snowed in for?”

“Oh!” He chuckles with a smile on his face. “Not too long. This isn’t the worst blizzard I’ve seen in my life. Shouldn’t be more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” you whine.

“Yeah, but we’ll be able to leave property around then, and can go into town to get supplies. After that, the roads will be passable to get you home in another couple of weeks, give or take, as long as another blizzard doesn’t happen.”

“Oh, no!” You fall down into a chair. “I can’t be stuck here for that long!”

Tipalov’s smile wanes when he realizes his news isn’t good news. “Well, no one really wants to be stuck, you know?” He walks over to you. “I have plenty of supplies, even for you. I know we don’t know one another, but we can try to get familiar.”

You sniffle, hanging your head and sobbing into the bag.

“Or, uh...” he stammers in alarm, “I can stay away from you, if that helps?”

You shake your head. “It’s not you.” You hug the bag and blubber a little more. “You’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh,” Tipalov kneels in front of you. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can try to help as best I can.”

You let out a long, heavy sigh and look up. You see that Tipalov’s eyes are a deep, dark blue. “Thanks,” you hiccup. “I’m sorry too. Being snowed in like this with a stranger must put a pretty big dent in things.”

“Not really. I’m usually snowed in alone, so I usually just masturbate and eat.”

You grimace. “Tipalov, do you ever hear yourself when you talk?”

“Why?” he frowns. “What’d I say?”

You decide now is the best time to give up and just accept it. After all, you may be snowed in with this musclebound idiot for a month. “Never mind,” you murmur. “I’m in your home. I shouldn’t be picky.”

Tipalov chuckles as he rises back to standing. He may not seem too bright, but at least he’s handsome to look at. “You just ask me, and I’ll try my hardest to satisfy.”

You smile, trying to push your thoughts aside. “Thanks, but really, just go about your business as normal. I mean… aside from the masturbating. Try and do that somewhere private.”

“Well, if you catch me you can always join in!” he guffaws, his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. 

“Um...” you cough and clear your throat loudly. “For the sake of civility between us, let’s say I won’t for now.”

Tipalov moves to the counter of the kitchen to chop up vegetables. “It’s been a long while since I had someone join me for a blizzard. Not since my brother became a guard at the royal palace.” He chucks all the cut vegetables into an iron pan. “Although I doubt you and I will be wrestling as much.”

You go into the kitchen and stand before the fire, watching the skin on the fish pop and sizzle with the heat. “Not unless I wanted to die.” You look sideways at him. “So, Tipalov, what do you do in the world?”

“I told you,” he says. “I fish.”

“Fish?” You lift an eyebrow. “That’s literally all you do?”

He returns your inquisitive look. “It’s hard work here in the Polar.” He places the iron pan over the grill above the fire. “You have to cut open the ice, swim down into the water to set up the nets...”

“Whoa,” you gasp. “You actually swim in that frozen water? How?”

Tipalov’s smirk grows smug, and you can see he has a couple of gold teeth. “Well, for one, you have to be naked in order to do it.”

You hold your tongue but you have a growing feeling that nudity is common for him. 

“Then you just have to dive in, take a deep breath, and pray you don’t get stuck.” He shrugs. “Nothing to it.”

“Nothing to it,” you laugh. “Oh come on! You’re swimming in below-freezing waters. That takes a lot of guts!”

Tipalov smacks his belly. “That’s part of it.”

You giggle and shrug. “Okay, well, it’s impressive regardless.”

“What about you?” He tosses the pan to mix the vegetables. “What do you do?”

“Aside from almost freeze to death?” you huff. “Well, my family has made tea for generations. We grow the camellia plants, then roast or dry the leaves, and we make special blends in-house.”

“I prefer coffee,” Tipalov says. “But, um… I’ve never been able to garden. It must be tough making sure everything works well.”

You chuckle. “It’s pretty boring actually. The gardening isn’t as hard as the measuring and mixing process is. Not to mention the roasting is so hands-on, you can’t do much else for days.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods. You doubt he gets it, but not many people do. “Then why the heck were you all the way out here in the Polar?”

“I was with the Prattler Caravan,” you reply. “My parents usually go, but my father was sick so I volunteered.”

Tipalov nods. “So you were selling.” He gasps in surprise. “That’s what’s in the bag.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You got it.”

Tipalov quickly shakes his head. “I won’t rob you. I’m well-off on my own.” Then he glares. “But don’t you rob me either.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an effort to contain it. You chuckle as you catch your breath and shake your head. “You don’t rob me, I won’t rob you.”

Tipalov smirks and holds out his massive hand. “Deal?”

You place your small hand in his. “Deal.”

Spending your days with Tipalov isn’t so bad. He’s not the worst of company. Although it is quite boring, as he did say the only things to do are masturbate and eat. And, well… you can’t exactly indulge in the first part.

Most of the time, you sit around the fire and Tipalov starts talking out of nowhere, as if answering a question you haven’t asked. He tells you about growing up in a house full of siblings. His father was a fisherman like him, and his mother turned the fish into jerky. He has seven siblings, all boys, save for one little girl who is his favorite. His baby sister is his pride and joy, but when she got married she left the Polar to be with her husband, a Rakshasa spice trader. 

“I lost my best friend,” Tipalov sighs. “I’ve been alone here ever since.”

“Surely someone like you could easily make lots of friends,” you reply. “You’re very charismatic.”

He shrugs. “Oh sure, I have friends everywhere I go. But nothing like Ludava. Although,” he sighs wistfully, “being with you is a little similar.” He grimaces. “But, again, it’s way different than with Ludava.”

“Well I’m sure,” you chuckle. “We’re two different people.”

“I guess. But it’s not like that either.” He lays his head back so it’s on the seat beside you. “I’m not rambling again, am I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind it.” You scratch the top of his head, and Tipalov closes his eyes. He sighs deeply and a serene little smile crosses his lips.

“That feels nice,” he chuckles.

“Does it?” You scratch behind his ear. “How’s this?”

His eyes open wide all of a sudden, and he sits up like a shot. He chuckles nervously and grabs a pillow, which he places over his lap. “It was nice but, um...”  He fidgets and stands up, keeping the pillow in front of him. “I’m going to go chop some wood!” Once his back is turned towards you he drops the pillow.

“You don’t have your shirt on,” you gasp.

“Don’t need it!” he yelps as he slams the door shut behind him.

You click your tongue. “Well,” you murmur, “You gave him a boner. Now what?” You slouch down in the chair. Without Tipalov there rambling on, you mind starts to wander. You try to keep your head straight, but the thought of Tipalov getting an erection is foremost in your mind. You wonder what Polar cocks look like. His would have to be pretty thick, considering his size.

You hear Tipalov outside chopping wood, grunting and snarling as he does. Peering out the window, you see him, with only suspenders on his chest. His muscles flex and tighten as he brings down the axe over a log.

“Well, crap,” you murmur. “You’ve caught feelings.” You touch your cheek, which is burning warm. “You moron, what’d you go and do that for?” You continue to watch Tipalov out the window. “Beautiful idiot. It’s his fault you caught them.”

Tipalov looks up to the window, and a thick cloud of his breath wraps around his head. He waves to you and you wave back, giddy and giggly as you do. “Fuck,” you sigh with a smile. “Well, you got us into this mess, how you gonna get us out?”

That evening, you cook dinner. Tipalov has caught a rabbit and quartered it for you, so you fry it up and make a gravy from the drippings for potatoes. You get so busy that you don’t realize Tipalov isn’t in the room anymore. You look around for him, then go towards the bedroom door. You stop when you hear panting.

“Yes, right there,” Tipalov’s low, rumbling voice pants in desperation. “Hurry, dammit,” he hisses. 

You peer through the crack in the door to see Tipalov sitting on the edge of the bed. His cock is in his hand, and he’s stroking it. You feel you shouldn’t be surprised, but seeing such a display is never something to brush off. Tipalov’s cock is thick, and when he strokes it the bare skin protrudes from its fur sheath. It’s pitch black, with a ridge going down the underside. The tip is oozing, glittering in the dim candlelight. Tipalov throws his head back, his hand braced behind him.

“Fuck yes,” he moans. “Fuck.” He grits his teeth as he looks down. “I wanna come,” he whimpers.

You bite your lip, wanting to walk away but finding that your feet have cemented themselves to the spot.

His strong hand twists around the tip then glides down the shaft. He lays back on the bed, using both hands to grip himself. He pumps faster, harder, whining and gasping as he does.

“Please, make me come!” he cries. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck!” His hips jerk, and his white seed spills. It gushes upwards and along his stomach. It spurts a few times, trickling over his fingers. His cock remains erect even as his hands fall aside. He lays there breathing heavily, gulping down air.

You step away from the door, face burning hot, with an ache deep in your loins. “Oh, wow,” you pant. Then you smell something burning and you rush to the stove. You drop a few things, and as you try to keep the food from burning, Tipalov steps out of the bedroom, slipping the suspender straps back onto his shoulders.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“I, uh...” You can’t look him directly in the eye. “Sorry!”

Tipalov comes over and helps you pick up, then adds butter to the pan. “No worries.” His belly is wet from where he had to clean himself. “I am starving.”

“Me too.” You glance up at him and smile nervously. “Should be soon.”

Tipalov smiles at you. “Good. I’ve worked up an appetite today.”

“I know.” You bite your tongue. “Just go sit down!”

Tipalov places his paw on your forehead, which is damp and cool. “Your face is really red. Do you have a fever?”

You push his hand away. “Nope!”

Tipalov smirks at you. “What’s wrong? You’re acting a bit strange.”

You keep your mouth shut, unable to even think of a lie to tell him. You shake your head and laugh. “Dinner will be done here in a second. Go sit and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Okay then,” Tipalov murmurs. He walks away and sits down before the fire.

You eat dinner somewhat quietly. Your mind is moving too fast to settle on one particular thought. 

“You know,” Tipalov starts slowly, “I was thinking - or, well, I’ve been thinking, and it’s getting to a point I can’t think about much else.”

“Oh?” You flinch. 

Tipalov sighs. “It’s you,” he grumbles. “And I know I can’t keep it to myself much longer or I’ll pop.”

You lick at the corner of your mouth. “You can tell me.”

Tipalov chews his lip, then sighs. “I like you,” he grumbles. “A lot. And being so close to you all the time gets… frustrating.”

“I like you too,” you say with a smile. “I understand.”

“But… you see, even if you like me, there are things I want you to do to me that may make it weird.” He looks up into your eyes. “And we’re still stuck here together.”

“Well,” you tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re already starting there. I mean, I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to ride you into the sunset too, but...” You giggle nervously. “Perhaps we should start off with a conversation.”

Tipalov nods. “How so?”

You stand up and move to sit beside him, and now you can see his pants are straining against his growing bulge. “How about I tell you something, then you tell me something.”

“Like?” he says with a small smile.

“Like,” you giggle, “I would like to tie your big hands to the bed and feel your tongue against me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “My turn?”

You nod.

He gulps. “You tie my hands and fuck my ass.”

You were unprepared. “Oh!” you gasp.

“Bad, right?” he sighs.

You shake your head. “No! No!” You place your hand over his bulge. “Just unexpected. But you know I don’t have a dick, right?”

“I know!” he huffs. “I have… things...” He groans as you rub him through his pants. “I’ll do anything you want.”

You undo the laces of his pants and let his cock spring out. You kiss his neck, pressing close to his body as you stroke over his shaft. Then you stand up and tug him to the bedroom. Tipalov lays down on the mattress as you climb on top of him. You kiss, rubbing your hands down his body. You use his suspenders to tie his hands to the bedpost.

“What are you going to do to me?” he pants.

You strip off your clothes. “You sound like a damsel in distress,” you chuckle. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

Tipalov thrusts his hips into the air. “Ride me a bit?”

You climb on top of him again, sliding yourself over his shaft. You’re wet and needy from watching him jerk off, and even more so from your heated conversation. You slowly take him inside, unused to something so thick.

Tipalov’s expression is pure bliss. He grits his teeth through his grin then lets out a loud moan. “Yes! Oh, fuck… you feel so good.”

“Do I?” You grind him inside. “Not so bad yourself.” You move up and down slowly. 

Tipalov struggles against his restraints. “Oh, please… oh, yes!”

“Talkative thing aren’t you?” you moan as you ride him. “I wonder how you’ll howl when I’m inside you.”

Tipalov’s lashes flutter. “Easy!” he cries. “I’ll come.”

You gasp softly as he throbs inside you. You take him deep inside and keep him there for a moment, biting your lip and planting your palms firmly against his chest. Then you move against him, thrusting hard and fast all at once. Tipalov yells loudly, crying out in rapture. His voice peaks and trembles as you start to shiver.

You thrust back down on him and throw your face onto his belly, gasping in pleasure as ripples course through your limbs. You rake your fingers down his belly to his hips and slowly pull away from him. His cock twitches, spurting again against his thigh. He’s left quite a lot in you, and you can feel it dribble out slowly.

“Oh, wow,” Tipalov pants. “Oh, wow!”

You kiss his chest and neck, moving to his lips and kissing them lovingly before you straddle his waist again. “Now, tell me - where do I find these special things of yours?”

Tipalov motions. “My chest,” he says. “Inside there is a bag under my heavy coat. It has everything in it.”

You open the chest and find the soft black bag. Inside there is a large phallus carved from rose quartz. “My, my,” you giggle. Also in the bag is a bottle of oil and a harness with an attachment for the rose quartz. You slip it on, and Tipalov’s cock twitches again.

“You have a lot of stamina,” you giggle. You tie your hair back as you crawl back onto the bed. You pour the oil over the phallus and then use the excess on your fingers to rub to Tipalov’s rear. He gasps and moans, thrusting his hips towards you.

“What a bimbo,” you tease. You slip your fingers inside him.

“Yes!” Tipalov cries out. “Yes. More!”

You thrust your fingers inside him. “What’s the magic word?”

“P-please!” He’s drooling. “I’ll do anything.”

You move into place and watch as the phallus slips inside him. Tipalov thrashes on the bed, moaning in pleasure. You thrust shallowly at first, then pull out, much to his aggravation. Once you push back inside, you go deep, and Tipalov snarls from within his chest.

Tipalov is grinning. “Fuck me! Just like that! Oh, yes! Fuck me!”

You thrust hard into his ass, panting in your own need as you watch him. His voice grows louder and louder, choking off and leaving him as his cock throbs. He comes, nearly hitting you in the eye and making a mess over his stomach again.

You lick his come from your cheek and slowly remove the phallus from him. “Have fun?” You untie his hands, and he grabs you. He pushes you down onto the bed and covers you with kisses.

“You’re amazing! You’re so good!” Tipalov moans. “Thank you!”

“Hey, calm down.” You kiss him lovingly and pull him down. “Take a breath, enjoy this. We have a lot of time to play together. Relax.”

Tipalov moans. “I just get so excited.” He melts beside you on the bed. “And you make me feel good about myself.”

“I do?” You giggle.

He nods. “You don’t make fun of me, and you listen to me.” He nuzzles your breast. “You make me feel safe.”

You wrap your arms around him. “You’re so sweet,” you coo. “You make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.”

“To me,” he sighs, “you are.”