--------------------------------

  Hurlish

  --------------------------------

  Hurlish had found something funny about having two wives when you were raising a kid: it made everything easier. Hurlish probably should have been ready for that, seeing as two was more than one, but the ways it turned out to be easier were a bit surprising.

  She hadn’t had to do much of anything when it came to fixing up the house for the kid, for example. Her weapon collection had been taken off the walls before she’d even got home with little Tahn, the best examples pced in neatly organized gss dispy cases. The furniture in the living room had been rearranged, making room for the crib that Sara had stolen from the Shaded Tree gang way back when, and the kitchen had even been stocked full. David had commissioned a carpenter to make a chair with curved legs that he called a ‘rocking chair,’ which did wonders for getting the baby to sleep. Evie had also gone so far as to clean as much of the house as she could reach, wiping down every surface with rags soaked in the weird-ass chemicals the alchemists had been cooking up to stop disease.

  In the end, Hurlish really only had to focus on taking care of Tahn himself. Not that that wasn’t a hard job, of course. But with all the help she was getting, it was a hell of a lot easier than she’d been preparing for.

  What she hadn’t expected was just how damn grating all that help could get.

  “No, no, don’t worry yourself, I’ll get it,” Evie said, leaping away from her work as Tahn started his hourly screaming session. She crossed the house and scooped Tahn out of his crib before Hurlish could get halfway off the couch, her feline ears folded against the kid’s shockingly powerful hollering.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Evie cooed, bouncing him in her arms. “Let’s see what the matter is, hm? Not your diaper, no. Are you hungry? Is that it?”

  Hurlish continued her rise off of the sofa, despite Evie’s warning gre not to. She thumped over to her wife and infant son, holding out her hands.

  “Here. Let me see if he’s hungry.”

  “I was going to bring him over to you,” Evie accused, frowning even as she handed Tahn over. “It’s only been two weeks since the birth. You should be rexing more.”

  Hurlish ignored that comment, seeing as she’d seen the healers a couple of times already, and put Tahn to her bare breast to see if he was hungry. Unsurprisingly, he immediately tched on.

  “Damn,” she said, wincing. “Little bastard’s fangs are sharp. You must have been hell on your mother, girl.”

  Unlike purely human kids, orcs were born with their tusks already poking through their gums, coming out of the lower jaw as blunt little nubs. It seemed that that, when combined with Evie’s feline fangs, meant Tahn had been born with two needles popping out of the top of his jaw to match his tusks. It was strange, and Hurlish was reminded of it every time the kid got a bit too nippy.

  “As if my mother ever breastfed me,” Evie said, sniffing disdainfully. “She almost certainly had a wet nurse.”

  “Well, how’d the nurse get you to keep those pretty little fangs to yourself?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. I was an infant. I suspect they simply didn’t; any who dared compin of it to my mother would almost certainly have been removed from her position.”

  “Maybe we can ask Mui,” Hurlish said, heading over to her rocking chair. “Catfolk have gotta have some kinda secret to it.”

  “I’m afraid that catfolk are born without their teeth, much like humans. In fact, I think it is only azarketi and felines which present sharpened teeth from the moment of birth.”

  “He doesn’t have a full set of choppers,” Hurlish said, giving Tahn a little pat on the back to help the milk go down. He made a cute little gurgling noise. “Just the fangs. Which are the problem parts.” She eyed Evie. “That’s your fault, by the way.”

  “Take your compint to Amarat, dear. I didn’t have any intentional role in conceiving him.”

  “Guess that’s fair. You were mostly tryna lick him outta me.”

  “Good gods, Hurlish,” Evie said, scowling. “How obscene can you be? In front of Tahn?”

  Hurlish ughed. “Really? That’s where you draw the line? You’ve swallowed more cum than an elf whore and that’s what puts you off?”

  “My sexual proclivities have nothing to do with how I wish to view our child. And I certainly don’t want them spoken of around him.”

  Hurlish ughed again, but didn’t push the point. Finding one of Evie’s red lines was rare enough that it was easy to respect ‘em. Teasing her was fun, but only when she knew the girl actually liked it deep down inside.

  Hurlish moved over to the rocking chair, gently lowering herself down. The chair creaked a little bit, but she wasn’t concerned. It had been built with a pregnant orc in mind; the thing could take whatever she threw at it.

  While she breastfed Tahn, Evie returned to her preparations. It had been two weeks since Tahn was born, and tomorrow was the day they were pnning to set out for the Empire. Evie was walking from one end of the apartment to the other, neatly slipping travel supplies into a collection of leather backpacks. She’d already stuffed everything she could into Sara’s bag of holding, mostly clothes and small bags of emergency rations, which meant the remainder had to be carried more conventionally. Bags of holding were amazing things, but they still had limits. Sara’s bag was a high-quality example that could hold more than most, but that didn’t mean Evie could throw anything in it. If it couldn’t fit through the mouth of the bag, which was about the width of a human fist, there wasn’t anything you could do.

  “Are you really gonna need all that?” Hurlish asked.

  Evie gnced up from shoving her fifth steel dagger into one of the travel packs; steel tools were getting cheaper every day.

  “I doubt it,” she admitted. “But if I have the margin for greater safety, I will gdly take it.”

  “If you’re digging around in your food bag for a knife, I think you’re gonna be screwed anyway.”

  “It’s not as if I will be carrying it personally. That is what the escorting soldiers are for.”

  “I think they’d object to being treated like pack mules.”

  “They can object all they like,” Evie said, adding another dagger to a bag. “They have their orders.”

  Hurlish snorted, letting the point drop. She didn’t know what she was talking about, really. Evie was the expert. She just wished the girl would rex a little bit, sometimes.

  Like with those damn guards, Hurlish thought, gncing out the window. A woman with a musket was standing just outside the window, armor gleaming in the sun. Her head was slowly turning from left to right, scanning the street. Hurlish wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the chick blink.

  They didn’t live in the multi-story apartment they’d started off in Tulian with anymore. Evie had moved them closer to the Peasant’s Theatre, commandeering one of nearby buildings that hadn’t been fully repaired yet. Per her orders, the second and third floor stairways had been boarded shut, preventing anyone from sneaking in from the roof, then the few occupied nearby homes had been bought out on government coin, turned into barracks for members of the Tulian Army that Sara had personally interviewed. Half-inch thick steel shutters had been added to the house’s windows and doors, ready to be dropped by the severing of a single rope holding them in pce, and at least two guards stood at each potential entrance, with more on the roofs of nearby buildings.

  Hurlish wanted to say it was extreme, ridiculous, but for once she’d actually been outvoted by, of all people, David. He’d talked to Evie about the leader of his old country, some president or something which was protected by this trumped-up ‘Secret Service.’ After hearing all the crazy shit they did to protect their leader, Evie had been inspired. Even Sara hadn’t argued, what with her upcoming trip out of the country, because increasing security only meant all the pissy guards would be protecting Hurlish, not her, which Sara was of course perfectly fine with. Odds are, Sara would be a lot more irritated with being kept under lock and key once she was actually back in the country.

  As if summoned by Hurlish’s wandering thoughts, Evie’s ears flicked to the door. The lock turned a moment ter, door swinging open. Sara shuffled in sideways, arms festooned with overstuffed bags.

  “Honeys, I’m home!” She called, kicking the door shut with a foot.

  “We’re right in front of you,” Hurlish drawled.

  “I know,” Sara said, dropping her bags, “I just always wanted to say that.” She took a moment to organize what she’d brought, then stood, hands on her hips. As her attention fell on Hurlish, her eyes brightened.

  “Ooh! Tits! Nice.”

  “They’re not for you right now.”

  “He’ll get full soon enough. You’ve got more than enough in those beasts.”

  Hurlish’s only response was to roll her eyes, continuing her rhythmic patting of Tahn’s tiny back.

  Evie and Sara sat down on the floor next to one another as they began to go through the bags Sara had brought home, sorting out her shopping spree. Hurlish didn’t pay much attention to the supplies themselves; her wives were far more interesting.

  Even though half the floor was covered with crap that needed to be sorted, they sat down right next to one another, thighs and shoulders bumping together. Hurlish knew they didn’t even notice that they were doing it. It was just natural that they didn’t want to stop touching each other if they could at all help it. When Sara finished going through one bag, rather than standing up to go grab another one or even leaning a bit forward, she grabbed her sword and unfolded the bde, hooking a backpack’s strap to drag it over. All so she wouldn’t have to stop feeling the warmth at her side for half a damn second.

  Evie was even worse, of course. She started off fairly focused, muttering to herself as she checked and double-checked the paper that held her list of inventoried goods, but that concentration fell apart pretty quickly. Soon she was spending more of her time leaning her head against Sara’s shoulder, tail curling around the bigger woman’s hips as her body slowly fell to the side, molding itself into Sara’s curves.

  Hurlish loved her wives. Loved talking to them, fucking them, spending time with them. But she sure as hell was gd the two clingy sorts had each other. Having Evie or Sara hanging off her side all day would have driven her crazy.

  Eventually, Tahn finished up his meal. The little guy seemed exhausted by the effort of it all, an adorable little gurgle humming against her breast as he stopped sucking. She stood gently, carefully, as smoothly as she could, and walked him over to his crib.

  Hurlish paused as she pulled him away from her chest, looking down on him. The little guy’s eyes were already closed, tiny tusks creating the barest bumps beneath his lower lip.

  Something in her chest clenched, taken by a surge of love so strong it almost hurt.

  He was just about the perfect kid. His brown hair was thin and stringy, like most babies, but she could already tell it was going to look great on him. And his fangs. The little things were a pain in her ass, but gods were they cute. She’d never seen an orc with fangs like that; hells, she’d never seen the kid of an orc and a catfolk, much less a feline like Evie. He was one-of-a-kind, and not just because he was hers.

  Hurlish had never imagined she’d actually have a kid of her own. She’d wanted one since… forever, really. As soon as she’d started bleeding as a kid. Maybe sooner. She’d tried to forget about it, but it was always there. The desire to get knocked up, pregnant, to raise a kid on her breast.

  But she’d also never had the slightest interest in men, and that sure as hell complicated things. Sure, she’d heard of women that had dicks. Some were just born like that. She’d even met a few. But none of them had hit it off with her, and she’d never been interested in raising a kid on her own. She wanted to do it right.

  Looking down on little Tahn? She was hit by a wave of disbelief so strong it made her dizzy. She’d done it. She’d had a kid of her own. She’d even got to pick out his name; Tahn, after her father. The man was long-gone, taken by the storms with the rest of Hurlish’s family, but she knew that if he was looking down on her right then, he’d love the kid. He’d always told her that when she finally settled down with a wife, it wouldn’t be hard to find a kid that needed a pair of moms. But neither of them had ever thought the kid would actually be their own flesh and blood. It was… Well. She still couldn’t believe it, sometimes.

  Gentle as she could be, Hurlish lowered Tahn down into his crib, taking care to ensure his tiny little head was comfortably resting on his tiny little pillow. She brought the lightweight bnket up to his shoulders, covering him, then stepped away.

  Evie and Sara were still engrossed in their work-ssh-cuddle session. They probably heard her walking up behind them, but they didn’t think much of it.

  Until Hurlish bent down and wrapped her arms around both women’s stomachs, squeezing them tight.

  “Oof-”

  “Hurlish-”

  “Shh,” Hurlish whispered, “Tahn’s asleep. Keep quiet.”

  She squeezed tighter, lifting them both off the ground. Smiths weren’t really supposed to get to the kind of Level that she had. Unlike combat Csses, most craftworkers topped out at their fifth or sixth Level, or, if they were true masters, as high as their eighth or ninth.

  Thanks to Sara, Hurlish was Level fifteen, and her Weaponsmith css had made a point to focus on increasing her Strength well beyond what even combat Csses got. As far as she was concerned, the two women might as well have been made of feathers.

  Hurlish stood with both her wives bundled in her arms, walked over to the couch, and flopped onto her back. The wooden frame creaked in protest under the weight, but held strong.

  “We still have much to prepare-” Evie began to insist.

  “Hush up, Kitty,” Hurlish muttered, snuggling into the cushions. Both of her wives were piled on top of her far rger body, using her in the same way she was using the sofa.

  “Really though, dear, I do need to finish-”

  “I said be quiet, Kitty.” Hurlish reached up a hand and shoved the feline’s face into her cleavage, burying her protests in tits. Evie’s muffled voice faded away in an instant, repced by a full-body, shuddering sigh. Hurlish wasn’t sure if it was the assertive order or the narcotic effect of breasts rger than her head that shut her up, but either way, it worked.

  “What about me?” Sara whispered. She was on the left side of Hurlish’s body, head tucked into Hurlish’s neck. “I want a faceful of tits, too.”

  “You’ll get your turn when I’m done napping,” Hurlish said, wrapping a palm around Sara’s ribcage. She flipped the woman over, so Sara’s back was pressed to Hurlish’s bare stomach, then slipped her hand up the Champion’s shirt, taking a handful of her left breast. “Now, be quiet. We’re all gonna sleep.”

  “Evie’s not wrong, you know,” Sara murmured. “We do have things that need to get done.”

  “Too bad. You should’ve thought of that before you married me.”

  Sara sighed melodramatically, shifting her hips as she found a more comfortable way to y across Hurlish’s body. “Oh, well,” she said, pausing to yawn. “Guess I’ve got no choice.”

  “Nope.”

  With Hurlish’s left hand full of Sara’s breasts, her right slowly stroking up and down Evie’s back, she slowly began to drift away.

  Tomorrow, her wives would be fucking off into the jungle to do gods-knew-what, probably risking their lives a dozen times a day. Today, though, they were napping together, rocked to sleep by the little puffs of their child’s breath.

  Just as her eyes were beginning to droop closed, she heard Tahn take a deep breath.

  And begin to cry.

  Goddammit.