Guest: thanks, I'm glad you like how I'll age him.
PS: there will be a lot of happy moments, it's just the initial pain was just awful.
XIX. Over and over I'm filled with emotion/Your love, it rushes through my veins/And I am filled with the sweetest devotion/As I, I look into your perfect face/It's no more mystery, it is finally clear to me/You're the home my heart searched for so long/And it is you I have loved all along
It was within hours, when Bolg normally would have fed, that her breasts began aching for him to feed. It had woken her, though her sleep had been restless without her son's breathing next her, and she lay uncomfortable as the feeling of her breasts exploding swelled and devoured her. It pained her to think of him, as she remembered his screams as an orc took him from her. She had nearly screamed herself when his cry cut off abruptly, knowing the orc had slapped him. This would be his life, no mercy and no kindness; he would grow without love and as a mother she felt all too clear the feeling of failure as she allowed it.
Azog had held her until she stopped crying, was even still holding her now as he slept, and she tried as hard as she could to love him still. Bolg was his son too, and this was how orcs were raised – it was because she was human why it was so hard. This wasn't his fault, she realized though it had taken her hours of laying next to him hating him to understand that; orcs were strong and ruthless and anything less meant they were weak. And she had seen many an orc killed for his weakness, and she had stopped hating Azog when she thought of her son being killed for not having the strength that was required of him, and all because she had loved him.
And so she lay in despair, her breasts and her heart weeping the tears her eyes were too dry to cry. It did not lessen the next day, nor the day after; it grew and it grew until sometimes she wanted to cry, and others she wanted to lash out and strike someone. She was being driven mad by the need for her son to feed, a constant reminder that she had let him be taken from her.
Upon returning to the tent Azog was greeted with a small smile from her, and even then he could see in her eyes she was not happy, and even more he could see she was in pain. For three days he asked her, "What is it?" and she never answered. But on the third day she did.
She hadn't wished to anger him by telling him the reason for her pain, thinking he would not understand a woman's need to have a babe to drink her milk, thinking he would misunderstand and think she was bemoaning the loss of her child again. But seeing the concern in his pale eyes, feeling his hand on her cheek as he forced her to look at him; she couldn't remember why she had been worried, not when she could clearly see that he loved her.
"My breasts ache to feed," she told him softly, seeing in his eyes he did not fully understand. With a sigh she continued. "I have," she paused to think of a word in place of milk, for she did not know it, "food and no one to eat," she finished. "They hurt."
He looked at her in surprise and she could see he now understood, and still she was left with nothing take away the sharp ache in her breasts. Her brows drew together when she saw his eyes look to her chest and then she was on the ground, she had barely blinked before he moved and he was on top. The dress she wore was old and now far too big for her since she had given birth and so Azog tore it from her body making gasp. A heat flooded through her, a warm flame that she hadn't realized had never really gone away; it was true she had not felt desire in months but it had lingered in the back of her mind waiting for him to arouse her. And arouse her he did; he replaced her sadness with his love, set her on fire with need.
There was nothing sweet, nothing nurturing and mystical as nursing a babe when Azog took a nipple between his lips; it was fire and passion and her breathing deepened, a moan tearing from her throat as he nearly sucked her entire breast in his mouth. His teeth bit into her skin, his tongue lapped at her milk, and her head fell back. The ache dissipated, traveling instead between her legs; and oh how she wanted him inside her.
He smiled at her mewling as he moved to her other breast, feeling her legs around him tightening, feeling how wet she was growing against his stomach. For months he had been waiting for this, almost afraid her desire had completely fled her, now he saw it had been hiding; waiting for him to draw it out. Her milk was honey on his tongue, a nectar he would have continued to drink if not for his own desire which was demanding to be released. Pulling his mouth off her breast he looked up at her to see her lips parted as she breathed deeply, seeing lust flood in her eyes as he pulled his loincloth from his hips to see his pale skin pinkened as he stood fully erect.
With a deep chuckle he flipped her on belly and took her hard and fast, coming in minutes before she even felt the first tendrils of her own finish. And she knew when he turned her on her back and stared hard in her eyes it would be a very long night, one full her begging and screaming for him to fuck her, ecstasy setting her soul ablaze as he brought her to a release only to let it ebb away; over and over and over again, until she was nearly crying from the force of her need. Six months since she had her son, not once had she let him lay with her, three months before that when her belly was at its largest; a total of nine months had he waited to lie with her again. Even when she had gone to the river to bathe and her body had been bare and so alluring, she still had said no. She owed him nine months of agony, and so he tortured her til dawn. He had her nearly screaming as he devoured her, holding her both her wrists and hips as she writhed beneath the movements of his tongue; and he always stopped a moment before she came, bringing her so close to the edge she was nearly falling only to draw her back leaving her whimpering. A few times he had taken her breasts in his mouth, doing nothing but keeping her desire flaring but offering no hope of a release. Twice more he took her, his own desire forcing itself known, and both times he'd finished by thrusting against her back; refusing to let her come until he gave permittance. And often he merely held her against his chest, running hand along her back as her breathing slowed from both excitement and exhaustion.
It was awful and horrible, she was in utter agony; and she loved every second of it. The feeling of his tongue running over her, penetrating her, teasing her in the cruelest of ways so she begged him to take her. It was nine months her own desire had stayed unabided, and though it made her want to weep to come so close and never finish she never wanted him to stop. Her body had shook and she had moaned as she came for nearly a minute, he was leaning over her and thrusting as deeply as he could with rough jerks of his hips; and even after she'd come he continued moving bringing her quickly to another and another.
She could barely draw breath in her lungs as he pulled out of her, laying his head on her chest as he caught his own breath. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, could feel her body still shaking slightly from how utterly exhausted she was; and sleep stole upon them in only moments leaving him to wake still laying on her breasts and realizing he was happy.
song is It Is You I Have Loved by Dana Glover
The point of this chapter was a few things; one, Calla is coming to terms that the best thing for her son is to have given him to the orcs. As well as her and Azog working their way back to being how they were before Bolg - which the sex was more a show of Azog's frustrations and desires over nine months as well as Calla's whose desire had been more in hiding. And I'm thinking for the chapters that follow I will be skipping months and maybe even years, but I'll be sure to make it obvious. Thank you all for reading.