Page 32 of The Longing

My eyes fly to his face. His jaw is set tight and the muscles in his upper body are straining.

“If you gave me an orgasm, I should give you one,” I respond.

“Orgasm?”

“An emission.”

“I emitted in my pants when you made some noises before,” Fenrother says as if it’s an everyday occurrence. “You gave me my orgasm then.”

I don’t want to withdraw my hand, partly because I want to see what happens—call it scientific curiosity—but partly because I like having control of this huge monster, or part monster, under the water.

So, I smooth down the rippling scales, imagining how they would feel inside me, and Fenrother’s hips flip up at me, his cock pulsing alarmingly, swelling in my hand as he groans under his breath. The tip stretches out, and a great cloud of creamy cum streams from it into the water.

It isa lot.

Fenrother shudders under me. Having experienced the third orgasm of his life, I’m pretty sure he’s probably done.

But I would be wrong. Instead strong arms lift me up, and I’m carried out of the bath. A towel appears from somewhere and he wraps it around me.

“I’m going to make a mess,” I say, feeling completely weary. “My period doesn’t stop because I’ve been in the bath.”

“I will clean you up,” Fenrother says emphatically.

Out of the water, the pain is creeping back, not as bad as before, but not great. All I want to do is curl up in bed and try to sleep.

As if responding to my wishes, Fenrother ushers me through to the bedroom. The wardrobe door is open, and he stops dead with a low growl, pushing me behind him as he stalks toward the open doors.

He reaches slowly into the imposing wooden wardrobe and then turns back to me with a puzzled look on his face and something in his hands.

Something which looks suspiciously like period underwear. I send my thanks to Meg of Maldon who has, simply, thought of everything. I whip the knickers from Fenrother’s outstretched hand. They’re soft and clearly absorbent as I pull them on.

It’s then I remember the bed. I have to have made a mess, and as my eyes travel to the sheets, I see the whole thing has been made.

“Duegar.” Fenrother shrugs, looking at the made bed.

“They’re good to you,” I say, lifting the bedclothes and crawling into the cool interior as the pain in my middle back ramps up again.

“I don’t ask them for anything. I hunt and I protect,” Fenrother says. “I am glad of their assistance.”

The way he says it, almost fondly, causes my heart to do a flip. He grew up here with an invisible force caring for him. At some point, he became useful, but there must have been a time when they were almost his silent parents.

What a way to come into the Yeavering.

I wrap my arms around myself and curl up in the bed. If I sleep, then potentially the worst of it will be over when I wake.

ALICE

“For you.” My shoulder is nudged by something hard and sharp.

I open my gummed up eyes to see Fenrother standing over me with a platter.

“I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“This is a tea. You must drink it,” he says firmly.

I drag my bloated, uncomfortable body up into a sitting position as Fenrother puts the platter on the bed. It’s light outside, so it must be morning. There’s no sign the bed next to me has been slept in, and it gives me an empty feeling.

Why would Fenrother not sleep in his own bed? Perhaps he is, ultimately, disgusted by my period, by the fact I’m lethargic and swollen and full of pain.

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