Vanessa
My hand hurt.
It had shifted from the sharp pain of the burn to a deep throbbing, which made it difficult to sleep.
I wanted to go find some ibuprofen, but the prospect of walking back through the house just felt impossible.
I replayed the last few hours in my head, and was surprised to notice that my mind kept returning to Torwood.
His huge form moving around the house, hunching through doorways to avoid knocking his horns, his hands moving quickly and precisely to prepare our lunch, his tiny reading glasses perched on his nose.
The smell of him, as he leaned in to bandage my hand, like wildflowers and summer sun and sweat, and something else.
A deeper scent.
I wanted in that moment to lean my face into his chest and inhale.
His hand on mine had been rough and huge, and I knew it could have crushed my own with a small slip, but he was almost impossibly gentle with me.
Did I want to fuck him? The thought thunderstruck me with how plainly obvious it was.
He was an asshole who had closed a door in my face, who could barely bother himself to speak to me in full sentences, but why did his closeness cause me to become so hot and dripping wet?
Was it our forbidden past love, or was it just because he was an orc twice my size who could snap me in half if he wished?
While bandaging me he began to put off a certain scent.
It was musky, earthen, and tugged at a deep part of me.
I remembered the same smell on him when we were teenagers, and he’d explained that orcs’ natural pheromones were heightened during periods of stress, anger, or arousal.
That I’d sensed it while he was near me could have meant he was worried or angry, but it could also indicate desire.
The thought almost scared me.
Sex with Torwood would be like trying to fuck a mountain.
I would be so helpless against his hands, he would fill me so completely with that cock, that all I could do was lay back and try to take whatever he wanted to give me.
Dammit, I was drenched now.
I rolled over and reached down to my suitcase, digging through the clothes until my hand closed over a hard piece of purple plastic.
I pulled out my toy, stuffed it under as many blankets as I could, and held it tightly to my aching pussy.
Why shouldn’t I fuck him? Maybe it would resolve the tension between us, which had not been released in ten years.
I plunged the toy deep into myself, and in my mind the plastic was not purple, but green.
***
A piece of banana bread sat on the floor outside my door.
I tried a bite, and was pleased to discover that it wasn’t half bad.
Maybe I did have an actual knack for hearth cooking, if I could just keep myself un-singed next time.
I would have to find a way to rub that in Torwood’s face - maybe after I finished letting him fuck me senseless.
A couple excellent orgasms had slightly eased the burning tension between my legs, but I knew that the pot would boil over again in time.
I grabbed the banana bread and returned to the kitchen, where Torwood and my grandmother were listening to an old battery-powered radio that I recognized from childhood camping trips.
“-emergency measures being taken, with record lows expected overnight as power outages continue throughout the Pigeonpond area.
Residents are advised to stay indoors and bundle up.
The cold represents a significant risk to the elderly, and we urge our listeners to take extra steps to ensure the comfort and safety of our older neighbors.
Remember that the use of fire magic in unventilated areas can be dangerous, and should only be attempted by professionals.”
“Well isn’t that fun,”
said Grandma Shirley.
I made eye contact with Torwood, thoughts of seduction driven from my head by the mental image of a popsicle shaped like my grandmother.
“I suppose we just have to make it through tonight, I’m sure things will improve tomorrow,” he said.
Despite no evidence in that direction, I couldn’t help but feel comforted by his optimism.
***
That night, Torwood and I went around the house and took an inventory of all the sheets and blankets in each room and closet.
After the inn closed, grandma had sold many of the old supplies, apparently including most of the beddings.
I grabbed the large down comforter from my bed, and Torwood took two soft old quilts from his.
With no apparent effort, he moved the massive couch away from the fireplace, and hauled Grandma Shirley’s bed from her room to take its place.
With our blankets combined with hers, we were able to build quite the nest for the old woman, who looked funny and childlike in her cocoon of wool and linen.
Torwood promised to get up during the night to feed the fire, and we insisted to her that we wouldn’t be cold even with the thin sheets we were left with.
In bed, I wrapped the covers around myself and curled my knees into my chest, trying to fend off the severe chill.
I glanced over at the big clock on the wall, and was dismayed to see it was barely after ten.
The weather woman on the radio had said the deepest cold would begin around two in the morning.
Thump, thump...thump thump thumpa tha-thump.
The startling, raucous noise carried down from upstairs, almost directly over my head.
Sounded like Torwood was back at it, whatever it was. As if the cold wasn’t enough to keep me from sleeping.
Shivering, I slipped out of bed and climbed the stairs, stern words for Torwood bouncing in my brain. It was strange, wanting to fuck someone and also being very annoyed by them. I was surprised to see him standing in the hallway.
“Vanessa. I’m sorry about the noise. I am moving around to keep warm,” he said.
While that story made some sense, I was baffled to see that he was shirtless again, with only loose pants hanging low around his waist. Even in the low light, my vision was magnetized to the V shape of his abdomen and the strip of dark hair below his belly button. It looked almost like an arrow, guiding my eyes down even further. I shook myself, and forced my gaze back up his face.
“Where are your clothes?” I asked.
“It is...I am not used to sleeping with clothing. I find it incredibly irritating, and so I never wear them at night. Despite the cold I decided that I would rather not sleep than wear clothing to bed.”
An image of naked Torwood, tangled in his sheets. Down, girl.
“Well...I have to ask you to keep it down again, okay? It’s only gonna get colder, and...I for one would like to get at least an hour or two of sleep tonight,”
I said, and started back down the stairs, then stopped. “Thank you for taking care of the fire tonight. I appreciate it. I know my grandma appreciates it. Okay. Goodnight.”
“It is no problem. Vanessa, if...”
Torwood began to speak, then quieted. I gave him a quizzical look, but he shook his head. “I apologize. Yes, I will be quieter.”
I nodded, and returned to my room. I felt a little bad, but if the man insisted on being half naked on the coldest night of the year, that was on him. I slid back in bed, screwed my eyes shut, and willed myself not to think of the numbness in my fingers and toes.
Midnight. I could see my breath in front of my face, illuminated by a slice of moonlight through the curtains. An idea sparked in my head, and I pivoted out of the bed, my lone sheet wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I walked to the front entrance and grabbed a big armful of coats, mine and Grandma’s and a massive leather coat lined with sheep’s wool which must have been Torwood’s. I began to return to my room, then considered. If Torwood had the same idea, he would come looking for his coat. I wanted to offer it to him, knowing he would probably turn me down.
I began to stride up the stairs with Torwood’s coat in my arms. The upstairs hallway was dark, as was Torwood’s room. Had he warmed himself up enough to finally sleep? I approached his door, and was surprised to find it ajar.
“Vanessa?”
his voice echoed from inside. I pushed the door open, and saw the orc on his bed, his giant nude back forest green in the pale light of the room, a white sheet shoved down around his midsection. He looked back over his shoulder at me. “Are you too cold to sleep?”
Framed as he was against the opposite window, strange formations of moonlight appeared to curl around his form. I squinted, and realized what the curls were: steam, rising from his body, congealing in the cold air. Whatever he’d done to warm himself up had clearly worked. I moved inside and closed the door behind me, realizing that the whole room was slightly warmer.
“I brought you a coat, but it seems like you don’t need it,” I said.
Torwood turned onto his back and pushed himself up on the bed, his forearms flexing.
The moon shadows on his chest and abdomen made him look almost godlike, Hercules with ivory tusks.
The sheet fell low, barely concealing his crotch.
I remembered, suddenly, what I had been thinking earlier in the day, before the dangerous cold had descended.
“Thank you, Vanessa. That’s very kind,” he said.
I held out the massive leather jacket, then dropped it on the ground. Torwood stared at me, confused. Maintaining eye contact I padded over to the bed, then crawled onto it.