Polar Bear Boyfriend Demyan (complete)

    When I was young both my parents died. Well, my mother died, I’m not too certain what happened to my father. I was left to take care of my younger brother. I did everything I could to raise him and provide for him. We had been poor from the get go, but without my mother, we got even poorer. I worked various odd jobs all my life, eventually having to rent out part of our small home to less than inscrutable people. 

    When my brother matured, he joined the Royal Rakshasa Army. I was worried about him, but I knew he was in the right place. He was provided for, had a stable roof over his head. I could rest easy then. He was getting an education as well, thanks to Mythri and Amit’s new influences.

    Everything, for a while, was ok. But then, the Gnolls attacked.

    The Rakshasa War had most of us evacuated out of our homes and to the underground bunkers. Even there we could still hear the low rumble of the fight. Afterward, when we were allowed to return to our homes, we saw the decimation. More than that, we saw the field where the dead were being laid. 

    To my horror, one of the dead was my baby brother. I was crushed. I was ruined. Everything in my life I had worked for was now gone. What little home I had made, the brother I had raised as my own, everything was taken from me.

    I left Rakshasa Country once and for all. I didn’t care where I ended up. I just started walking. Eventually, I realized I was heading north. The world was getting colder and colder, and even in the thin clothes I wore suited for the heat of Rakshasa Country, I kept going.

    Eventually, it started to snow. I had never seen snow before. Everything was white and blurry. I felt like I was in the fog of a dream, no, a nightmare. I kept trudging forward, not caring that I was in agony. And then ahead of me, I saw someone. Not just anyone, I could see my brother. 

    I cried out his name and ran forward. I held my arms open wide for him. Once I embraced him I’m not sure what happened. If I died, then I had been greeted by my brother in the afterlife. I was ok with that. At least I knew where he was.

    To my disappointment, I wake up. I’m staring at the rafters of a slanted ceiling. I try to sit up, but my body feels in agony. My feet and hands are wrapped in warm, wet clothes. I’m buried under down blankets, and I smell something pungent and hot. 

    “Ah, you’re awake,” the heavy accent is unfamiliar to me. “I must admit, seeing a black cat cross my path caused some worry.”

    I turn my head and see a massive polar bear. He sits down beside me, holding a bowl in one paw. 

    “Where am I?” My voice cracks.

    “Hell for the Rakshasa,” he says, stirring something in a bowl. He helps prop be up despite my protests. I try to swat at him, but my claws are covered.

    “You were freezing to death. I am surprised hypothermia hadn’t set in and taken your toes,” the bear growls. He then shoves a spoon in my mouth, and I gag, nearly spatting out the food her served me.

    “Stop it!” I snap at him.

    “You need to eat, you’re dying after all,” he places the spoon in my mouth again.

    The broth is thick and heavy, I’m not sure exactly what sort of meat he’s used, but it’s almost minty. I cough and sputter, and then he hands me water, tipping it for me since I can’t hold it.

    “What is it?” I groan, taking another mouthful. I’m no fool, even if I don’t like it, one never turns down a free meal.

    “Venison,” the bear says. “Never had that before?”

    “I rarely ever got meat,” I huff at him. “What’s venison?”

    He chuckles. “Never you worry about it.” He offers me another spoonful.

    “Who are you?” I ask before he shoves the spoon back into my mouth. 

    He laughs. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve just been calling you Bad Luck all this time.” 

    You scoff. “Prisha,” you answer him.

    “Prissy?” The bear asks with a crooked brow.

    You roll your eyes. “No. Prisha! Pree-shaaa.” He shoves the spoon into my mouth again.

    He taps his ear. “Your accent, I’m not used to it.”

    “Look who's talking,” I grumble as he takes the spoon back. 

    He stirs the soup again. “Demyan,” he replies.  He taps the bowl then looks down at me. His eyes are dark, just like his nose. “You’re in luck too, I’m a doctor.”

    “Doctor?” I laugh. “You look more like a wall.”

    “I used to be,” he stands up, setting the bowl aside. He goes to the oven, turning it down. “Back when I was a battalion leader.”

    “How do you go from battalion leader to doctor?” I ask.

    “It is law here,” he says. “Once children turn eighteen they serve five years in the military. After those five years, their schooling is paid for, or they continue the military. I took advantage and became a doctor.”

    You frown. “You all have served in the military? No choice at all? That’s barbaric.”

    “This is life here,” Demyan says as he slips on a pair of glasses. “We are all used to it, and we don’t need some black cat telling us how to live it.”

    I scowl a bit and lean back in the bed. I look around the small room, noticing a few shelves of books, some counters, and a couple of chairs.

    “For being a doctor, your house isn’t impressive.” I laugh.

    “Rest of the building is my hospital,” Demyan growls. “I do not live above my means. I am happy with unimpressive. And what of you? No doubt used to fancy street fairs and easy living. Sunning yourself without a care and having royal tea with the king and queen.”

    I scowl at him. “That’s not how life is?”

    “Then I suppose we are all living under assumptions,” Demyan growls. He walks to the foot of the bed and starts removing the wet wrappings around my feet.

    I hiss in pain, the air stings on my toes and I try to wrench away from him. His strong paws hold me in place as he inspects me with a close eye.

    “You won’t lose your toes,” Demyan growls. “In the future, maybe.”

    I finally pull my feet away, tugging them under the blankets.

    “Who goes walking barefoot in the north?” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I suppose the education system implemented by your rulers came too late.”

    I cut a dirty look to him as he comes to my side. He grabs my wrist, pulling me harshly and then removing the wrappings around my hand. He keeps my wrist still once the wrapping is off and he glares at me.

    “Take a swing at me, and I won’t be afraid to knock you to the ground,” Demyan snarls. “Got it, Prissy?”

    My lips curls and I hold still. I pull my wrist back as he releases me. He unwraps my other hand and looks it over. 

    “Fingers are fine too,” he stands up again. “You still are in no shape to go anywhere. You’ll stay here so I can keep a close eye on you.”

    “I’m fine,” I huff, pushing the blankets away from me. “I can go if I want to,” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t-” As soon as I try to stand, I crumble to the ground like a rag doll.

    Demyan chuckles as he looks down at me. “What was that again, Prissy?” He asks. “You can go?” He motions to the door. “Yes?”

    I snarl and prop myself up. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

    “You did that all by yourself?” Demyan stoops down and places me back into the bed. “You over exerted yourself, not to mention you almost died.” He tucks me back into bed. “I told you, you are staying.”

    I snarl ugly words under my breath at him. 

    I’m bedridden for the next few days. Demyan works in his hospital, coming back to make sure I eat and to check on me. Other than that, I am left alone in his awful little room. He leaves me books by the bedside, but I ignore them.

    Demyan doesn’t seem like a healer. His approach is rough, and his bedside manner is nonexistent. If I am a special case, I hate to see how he treats his patients on a daily basis. 

    One afternoon a cub comes wandering into the room. I stare at them, and they look at me. They’re wearing a dark blue coat that goes down to their ankles.

    “Are you Prissy?” She asks.

    I furrow my brow at her. “I’m Prisha.”

    The girl smiles and she comes into the room and to my bedside. “My dad said I should check on you. I’m Annushka!”

    I frown. “Your what?”

    “Papa,” Annushka says. “Demyan,” she smiles up at me. “He was telling me all about how you were walking around during the storm. He said it’s a miracle you didn’t die.”

    I narrow my eyes at her. “That asshole has a child?” I ask.

    She frowns at me. “Papa isn’t an-” she hesitates and scowls. “He’s not that word. He’s a good person,” she grumbles.

    I sigh and roll my eyes. “I’m just surprised he has a family,” I reply. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

    Annsushka shakes her head. “We aren’t a family,” she says. “He and Mama aren’t together. Mama is married to Papa Borya.”

    I try to suppress my smirk. “Well, isn’t that nice?”

    “Papa told me to check on you and see if you needed anything,” Annushka sits by the bed and folds her hands into her lap.

    “I’m fine, little one,” I sigh. “You don’t have to worry over me. I’ve been in worse situations than this. I’ve dealt with people worse than your papa.”

    Annushka’s eyes widen, and she nods. She looks down at her hands and then glances back at me. “You’re really pretty.”

    I’m a bit surprised. I turn and look at Annushka. “Am I?”

    Annushka nods. “Papa said you had lovely eyes.”

    I stare at the child like she insane. “Demyan said that? Willingly?”

    Annushka nods. “He said, that when you look at him, he feels like demons are tearing out his soul.”

    I’m not sure if this little girl understands what that means or if there is some cultural divide in sayings up here. “That’s...nice,” I say unsurely.

    “I’ve never met a Rakshasa before,” Annushka replies. 

    “Well,” I huff. “If it helps,” I look over at her again. “You are only the second Polar Bear I have ever met.”

    Annushka grins. “The first being Papa?”

    “Yeah, unfortunately,” I grumble under my breath.

    Annushka stays with me all afternoon, she asks me silly questions only a child would ask. She’s curious about Raksha Country and has quite a lot of questions about Queen Mythri. 

    “Do you have a family?” Annushka asks.

    Now it is my turn to have my soul ripped out by demons. 

    “Prisha?” Annushka murmurs with concern. “Is there something wrong?”

    I shake my head. “Nothing, child,” I whisper. “It is nothing.”

    For the first time, I am happy that Demyan comes through the door. Annushka rushes to him, and he lifts her up in his arms. 

    “I was beginning to think Prissy ate you,” Demyan says. “You never came back out to help me!”

    “She’s fun, Papa,” Annushka giggles.

    “Is she?” Demyan glances over at me. He then sets Annushka down. “Well then,” he reaches into his pocket and hands Annushka some coins. “As promised, you get to go pick out dinner for tonight. Nurse Mara is outside, she’s going to take you while I finish up here.”

    Annushka giggles and bounces. “Ok! Thank you, Papa!” She rushes out the door.

    Demyan turns to me. “I trust you were kind to her?”

    “She made be from your ballsack, but she is still just a child. Although, I do not understand how she is yours. She’s a good girl.”

    Demyan smirks. “I am glad to hear that. Also, I strangely pleased to hear you say ballsack.” He starts the oven and tosses wood inside. 

    “You are divorced?” I ask.

    “Never married,” Demyan replies. “I was young, Annushka’s mother was a warm cunt for my cock. That’s the story.” He turns and looks at me as he unbuttons his shirt. “We agreed to raise her together, but neither of us wanted each other. It all worked out.” 

    Demyan strips off his shirt and goes over to the chest of drawers. “I get Annushka every other week.”

    “Lucky you,” I grumble.

    “Don’t you have a family?” Demyan asks as he slips on another shirt. “You don’t seem too concerned about going back to them alive.”

    “That’s because they’re all dead,” I murmur. “So being alive is counterintuitive.”

    Demyan is surprisingly silent. 

    “The war took what I had,” I whisper. “So I left, and I never looked back.” I hang my head and start to cry.

    Demyan sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. “I too would rather die than go about in this world without Annushka in it,” he reaches over and pats my leg. “You can suffer here.”

    I chuckle through my tears. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

    “I know,” he says with a nod. “So are you.”

    Annushka returns later with her shopping basket full. She’s bought fish and butter and some sort of leafy greens. She’s also purchased a heavy cake that visibly makes the table shake when she sets it down.

    The meal is wonderful, and I am shocked by how much I enjoy myself that evening. Annushka reads to me from a book and winds up falling asleep by my side.

    “I am very jealous,” Demyan says from his chair. “She usually falls asleep with me.”

    “Good,” I smirk. “I am glad you are suffering.”

    Demyan chuckles then sighs. “Tell me, what did you lose back home?”

    I look down at Annushka sleeping peacefully beside me. “Why do you care?” I ask.

    “Because I have seen war,” Demyan growls. “And I know first hand how awful it can render a life.

    “It was my brother,” I murmur quietly. I run my claws through Annushka’s fur. “My mother died when we were both young, so I had to raise him on my own. He was my own,” I whisper. 

    “How did he pass?” Demyan’s voice is low and quiet, it is almost pleasant.

    “He was a soldier,” I feel the tears roll down my cheek.

    Demyan sighs and shakes his head. “Your loss is great,” is all he says before he goes to bed.

    During her week with Demyan, I grow close to Annushka. She helps me take my first steps out of bed, and she shows me how to make cinnamon cookies. My strength still hasn’t fully returned, and it is aggravating. Even making the cookies, I find myself winded and exhausted. 

    At the end of the week, I hate to see Annushka go. She hugs me tight and kisses my cheek goodbye. 

    “I’ll see you soon!” She says to me as Demyan walks her out the door.

    I make myself a cup of tea while Demyan and Annushka are gone. Once Demyan returns I am sitting at the table, looking over Annushka’s drawings.

    “The best of you is gone,” I tell Demyan.

    “I know,” he sighs. He pours himself a cup of tea from the pot I made. “She’s never here long enough.”

    I look over Demyan, his eyes look sunken, and his shoulders are slouched. “Do you want more?” I ask.

    Demyan stares down at me then shakes his head. “What would be the point?”

    “I don’t know,” I shrug. “You just seem to enjoy it.”

    “And what about you?” Demyan looks at me as he takes a seat. “Do you want any?”

    I look away and into my teacup. “I’ve never given it any thought,” I answer him. “But probably not.”

    Demyan scoffs and shakes his head. “Young women.”

    I finish my tea and then stand up. “Perhaps now, I should go,” I say to him. “I can walk again, and even if I’m not back to what I was, I think I can make it back home with some luck.”

    Demyan snorts. “But, you are bad luck,” he says.

    “Well,” I shrug. “It’s luck. And I’ve overstayed my welcome here.” I go over to the bed where my bag is hung on the post. As I reach for it, Demyan’s paw wraps around my wrist.

    “Let me go,” I say to him. “You needn’t play doctor with me anymore.”

    Demyan snarls, bearing down on me. “You will stay until I say so.”

    I glare up at him, narrowing in on his dark eyes. “Make me,” I snarl at him.

    Demyan’s lip curls over his teeth, and he puts his hands on me. His paws dig into my waist and then slide down to my hips. He tugs me forward and presses a kiss to my lips. I moan and push against him, slapping him once, twice and then plunging into another kiss.

    Demyan lifts me off the ground, and I struggle against him. I both hate him and want him. I want to rip him apart and make love to him. I strike his arms and shoulders, and then he tosses me down on the bed. He captures my hands and pins them above my bed.

    “You will stay in this bed,” he snarls. He grabs gauze and uses it to tie my wrists to the bed. He then places himself over top of me. “I will let you go when you are better.”

    I hiss at him and struggle against the restraints. “Some doctor,” I moan.

    Demyan hands stroke down my body and remove the robe wrapped around me. He bites his lip as he gazes at my naked form. He dips down, kissing my neck and then biting me. I cry out, both pleasured and hurt. He bites at my chest and drags his fingers down.

    His dark eyes cut up at me as he shoves his hand between my legs. 

    “Don’t you dare,” I pant. 

    He smirks as he lifts his head. “You’re soaking wet, Prissy,” he growls. His fingers slick around my folds, he squeezes and pinches. He rubs me between his fingers. “You’re dripping all over the sheets. You’re filthy.”

    I snarl at him, meeting his hungry kiss as his fingers push inside me. Demyan would not be my first lover, but he was the first to draw such passion from me. My desire for him mixed with my revulsion. It felt good, it felt tormentingly right.

    I sigh and moan, biting him as his fingers move inside me.

    “Am I just another hot cunt to you?” I hiss.

    Demyan grins wickedly. “Of course,” he moans. “But you’re more than that too.” His fingers pull out, and I grunt in frustration. He licks his fingers clean then sits up and stands by the bed. 

    He strips down and stands naked before me. His thick, heavy cock bobs in front of my eyes. It’s pitch black, the tip is flat and spear-shaped. The belly of it bulges outward slightly, and the base is amazingly thick. I bite my lip as I stare at it.

    “What,” I pant, “am I supposed to be impressed?” I look up at him and then pose myself on the bed. “It takes more than looking to make me impressed by a stupid dick.”

    “Don’t worry,” Demyan growls. He props a knee on the bed and places the tip on my lips. “I may be a stupid dick, but my cock is my best feature.”

    I lick his tip, teasing him. He then pushes between my lips, shoving his cock into my mouth. I growl and grunt, but I enjoy the weight of him on my tongue. His taste is dark and musky, I can’t describe the way it makes me feel. I thrash against the bed as he pushes deeper, the tip goes down my throat, and he moans. Oh god, his moan is so sexy.

    I grunt and choke as he uses me, but I don’t hate it nearly as much as I thought I would. I actually feel disappointed as he pulls away. I gasp and catch my breath, watching him as he moves back onto the bed. 

    “The sheets are filthy now,” he snarls as he hikes up my legs. 

    I gasp as he rubs his tip to my folds. I bite my lip, aching to feel him inside me. “You better fuck me good,” I snarl. “If you don’t you’ll be lucky I don’t eat your heart.”

    “Eat it,” he growls, spearing himself inside me just enough it’s torture. “I don’t need it.” He pulls out, and I hiss in frustration.

    Demyan chuckles darkly. He rubs to my folds then pushes his tip to my pucker. “I bet it would feel better here.”

    “You better not,” I growl.

    “You’re right,” he pushes at my ass anyways. “Unless you ask for it.”

    I pant and huff, struggling to try and rip the gauze on my own. 

    “Tell me you want me,” Demyan whispers. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

    I snarl at him and thrust my hips. I just want him to fuck me, I don’t care! I then flop to the bed, nearly at my limit.

    “Please,” I pant. 

    Demyan leans closer. “What was that?”

    I look into his eyes. “I want you,” I murmur. “Hurry. I can’t take this much longer.”

    Demyan kiss me, and as he does, I feel his cock push inside. I moan into his mouth as he stretches me. I’ve never taken something so big before, I feel almost like a virgin again. I say almost because this actually feels good.

    Demyan chuckles as he starts to move. He arches his back and pushes himself in deeper. He plants his paw on my chest, holding me in place as he starts to move his hips. He groans and watches himself move inside me.

    I press deeper into the bed, straining to keep my head above water. Each thrust of his cock I’m shoved deeper and deeper into oblivion. His moans and loud voice don’t help, they make me ache more. I can feel his pulse inside me, and it’s driving me crazy.

    “I’m going to cum inside you,” he growls into my ear. “That soppy hot cunt is going to be all mine.”

    I mewl and writhe. I feel the pulsing grow deeper and harder. “Do it!” I cry out. “Oh god! Oh god!” My legs twitch and kick, and I lose my senses for a moment. All I feel is Demyan, all I want is Demyan.

    With a few harsh thrusts and jerks, Demyan snarls, roaring out as he finds his release. His thick, molten cum burns inside me. I’m a shivering panting mess as he unties my wrists. He kisses down my arms until he reaches the center of my palm.

    “You belong to me now, Prisha,” he growls. “How does it feel?”

    I moan, kissing him as I wrap my arms around him. “What makes you think that?” I purr. “If anything, I own you now.”

    He smirks. “How so?”

    “A man doesn’t cum like that inside a woman without some intent,” I kiss him again. “If you don’t get me pregnant, I will be shocked.”

    Demyan pants as he pulls out. In fact, it almost looks painful to do so. “Shocked?” He laughs as he lays down. “Or disappointed?”

    I bite back my smile. “I’m tying you up next time, and you will have no choice in the matter,” I growl into his ear.

    “My Prisha,” he whispers. “You’re awful.”

    “So are you, my Demyan.”