IX. but I'll kneel down, wait for now/and I'll kneel down, know my ground/ I will wait, I will wait for you/ so break my step, and relent/well you forgave and I won't forget
She flinched when he touched her in the days that followed, if she was not looking at him when he placed his hand on her she jumped startled. It had confused him, angered him, hurt him, that she did not like his hands on her. But he had been lying awake one night and heard her gasp as she woke, and he understood; he sometimes forgot that she was gentler than an orc, weaker and far more easy to harm. So he had laid still without moving and let her curl up beside him, her head on his arm and her body against his side, drawing comfort from his nearness. He gave her time, a few days to feel safe again, to let her draw safety from the feeling of him laying next to her. But he never would have guessed what his patience and his understanding would do for her.
It amazed her to no end how compliant he was to her wants, that he waited until it no longer struck her with fear to feel a hand on her shoulder before he reached for her again. On that day he had taken her back to the tent, wiping a few tears away, before laying her down; she had almost told him no, afraid he expected her to lie with him since he had saved her. But he did no more than lift her dress and inspect her legs, seeing the bruises already forming. He gathered her dress above her breasts and looked over every inch of her skin, seeing the bruises and the scratches on her legs and her hips. He had asked her something but she did not understand, and so he placed his hand between her legs and looked at her. "No," she told him shaking her head. "You saved -" she stopped realizing he didn't understand her and so she shook her head. Her eyes captured the small sigh that escaped him before he righted her dress, he was relieved, glad. He tried so hard to be gentle, with his massive body and his large hands and strength enough to rip an orc in half; gentleness was not easy, but he tried. And it made her heart flutter to know he tried only for her.
He had woken once to her touch, her fingers trailing over his chest as she traced his scars. He laid still as her hands moved to his arm and then up to his face, where her lovely blue eyes met his pale ones. He had taken a breath at the feel of her fingertips on his cheek as she traced the scars, a light touch that set fire to his blood. His eyes closed as she traced the lines there, down over his cheekbones across his mouth and to his chin, and he breathed deeply as desire surged through him. He sat up and she laid back on her own, staring up at him with warm eyes, and he pulled her dress above her hips as he settled between her legs which she had spread around him. He came as close to entering her as he could, thrusting against her as he held her hips against his. Her hands, which normally stayed by her side or gripped his arms, trailed along his chest and around his back making him nearly moan as she dug her nails into his skin. He cared not for the noises she evoked from deep within him, pulling her legs further up his sides, her own throaty groans matching his. He felt her legs tighten around him, felt her back arch and saw her mouth open though her desire was so great she could not utter a sound, and he continued moving above her after she relaxed.
Her eyes took in every inch of pleasure that crossed his face, his own eyes closed and his growls sounding loud in her ears. She felt him twitch as she ran her hands along his waist and his hips jerked, and he continued thrusting feeling her hands burning his flesh as she touched him. A strangled roar tore from his throat as he rocked against her a last time, and he settled breathless on top of her, moving so his forehead rested on hers. His eyes fell shut when she brought her hand to his face, her small hands cupping his cheek; it took all of his strength to break free from this reverie and roll off of her.
He always rolled away, never holding her, never staying; he did not permit himself those moments of gentle weakness, and she so greatly wished he would. She came to enjoy nothing more than the few seconds when he allowed for tenderness, when once he ran his hand through her hair as he stared down at her as she laid beneath him – for in those moments not only was she his, he was hers. And then he'd roll away.
He may have tried taking her again, for her eyes were so filled with wanting, but she did not refuse him laying her down and moving against her. Whether in the tent or by the river before the wind grew too chilled, he would turn to her and she would comply with not only what he wanted but what she desired as well. He enjoyed pleasing her, it thrilled him and drove him on to his own release after she had reached her own; and never before in all his days had he imagined he'd love so much to rub against a beautiful young woman, to not take her by force but wait until she was ready and compliant. He was not content, he was never fully satisfied without the feel of being inside her, but it was enough for the moment. Until it wasn't. She could see in his eyes as he lifted her dress that he wanted her, from the way his eyes took in her womanhood and the dark curls above it, she knew he did. She had never thought she would enjoy the feel of him against her, and yet she did more greatly than anything else. But she had seen him on the rare few days he bathed with her, he was far larger than her, and she did not think she would enjoy him taking her. But she knew his hunger for her was not satiated by merely rubbing against her, and she was finding it harder and harder to say no to him. He stopped trying to take her, stopped pulling his loincloth aside and making her say no; he asked, as much as he was able. He would sit between her legs, her dress either over her hips or she was completely bare, and he would stare hard at her with pleading eyes – and she said no. Until she didn't.
He had just returned with a group of orcs after a raid, leaving Yazneg with her to ensure no orc laid a hand on her. They would be moving the next month to the Ettenmoors where they would remain for the winter, but she was not dressed to withstand the cold. And so he had brought her back a coat, one that had belonged to a woman who had looked her size. Calla had smiled beautifully, putting the brown coat on and tying it; and not once did she allow herself the thought of who Azog had taken the coat from, of what had befallen the woman – thinking those thoughts would have drove her mad, and so she had refused. Instead she'd taken the coat as a wonderfully thoughtful gift and had been so touched she'd stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, seeing her actions had shocked him.
If he had been able he might have blushed, so uncomfortable and flustered had she made him, and he stared down at her as she looked up at him with bright eyes. With a smile she removed the coat and laid down and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch as she spread her legs and pulled her dress over her hips baring herself before him, and he lowered himself to his knees.
"No," she said when he moved to thrust against her, and he looked at her confused for it had been a month if not more the last she said no to him. His confusion morphed into surprise and then desire when she pulled his loincloth from his hips leaving them both bared. She had never seen him fully erect and it truly startled her how large he was, leaving her to breathe deeply as she waited for him to move. He could see in her eyes she wasn't entirely ready, though she was willing; and she wasn't ready, but she thought perhaps it would be as when he first began rubbing against her and she would feel nothing.
So taken with need was he that he did not refuse her though she was not ready, instead he turned her over and pulled her hips so she was up on her knees. And even then she did not resist, she let him move her as he wanted, let him plant her hands on the ground and then let him wrap his hands around her hips. He growled when he pulled her onto him, she was so small and tight around him he could have come then. With his hands firm on her hips he guided himself in and out of her, pushing her forward and then pulling her onto him. Over and over, faster and faster, he slammed her hips against his plowing into her; the sound of their flesh slapping together could be heard under his growls which went unhindered in the face of his extreme desire. As his finished swelled he pulled her onto him as he thrusted, nearly whimpering as he penetrated deeper, and he cried out shaking as he slammed into her a last time.
He leaned against her shoulder as he caught his breath before he laid on his side, his chest heaving as he stared up at the top of the tent. So enraptured was he in pleasing himself it had not crossed his mind that she was a young woman who had never been with a man, that he should have been more gentle, that it might have pained her to be taken the first time in such a manner from behind. Calla had lowered her belly to the floor, feeling Daisy come and nestle at her side feeling she was upset, tears overflowing from her eyes as she tried to breathe. It had taken everything she had, and then taken more, not to cry out; she hadn't thought it would hurt so much, she hadn't thought it would have felt as though he were tearing her apart every time he was inside her. No expectation did she have of enjoying this first time, but never had she thought it would have pained her so much she'd have been left unable to breathe. There was a fire between her legs, one that made her curl up and hold her warg against her chest. Azog would have known he'd hurt her if they had gone to the river the next day, for she could barely move her legs apart let alone walk. And never had she been more grateful than when he only laid beside her the next night, for he and a small group had been preparing to move their camp. Though the next night he lay beside her and he touched her cheek, a soft touch that spoke all the words the other couldn't understand, and she'd gotten herself up on her knees and let him lift her dress over her waist; wincing as he entered her. It felt more as though he were spearing her over and again as he slammed her hips against his, her breasts jumping wildly from where they hung in front of her.
Days turned to weeks and weeks to a month, they moved their camp to the Ettenmoors and the air had chilled and she was finding that it no longer hurt her when he moved inside her; she did not enjoy it, not as she had when he rubbed himself between her legs. But he enjoyed her, he was happy even to take her and then lay beside her, letting her trace his scars or to simply let her lay her head on his chest; and she often laid herself against him, seeking his warmth as the nights grew colder, simply enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her own.
Only did she find pleasure when she bled, for his desire was left unabated and so he stripped them both and placed a rag between them and rubbed against her; only then did she feel the thrill of desire course through her, and once he'd just barely entered her and they'd both come together. But after a week she ceased bleeding and he took her on her knees. Two months of this, two moonbloods, and she did not want to be on her knees; she wanted to be on her back looking up at his face as he entered her. That was where her pleasure lay, she knew. The problem was that she didn't think Azog had ever taken a woman when she was not on her knees, and she did not know to tell him what she wanted. And so one day she pulled on her coat and left the tent, first seeing Daisy who now spent her days with the other warg pups – and Azog had told her, through Yazneg ,that the white warg was by far the fiercest of them all. And then she went to find Yazneg. The orc was more willing to offer her kindness, for Calla had yelled at Azog for having him hurt – and it had been Calla who put Yazneg back into Azog's good graces. And so when he saw her walking to him he turned fully to her waiting for what she needed. "I need you to tell me how to say something."
Song is I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons.
guest: I'm glad you liked it, thank you. And I'm glad to hear you're liking Azog, I'm actually really enjoying writing him. I do have to say I don't think I'm making him more human, I'm just giving him emotion. And Calla is bringing that emotion out of him, and I can't wait for her to bring more out.