Author's note - there is a small reference to torture in this chapter, so be warned if you're sensitive about such things. Actually, the torture mentioned was in reality carried out by German interrogators on Russian prisoners, but I've adapted it for use by the NKVD in this particular instance.
I should have mentioned it before, but the Tsaritsa river lies to the west in Stalingrad and joins onto the Volga as it meanders south. By the way, I have absolutely no idea if there are (or were) ancient sewers under the city - I invented them for the story, basing them loosely on the magnificent Victorian sewers that still lie beneath London. So if you ever visit Volgagrad (Stalingrad) and you go looking for them and they're not there, then don't blame me.
German Glossary:
Er hat sich bepisst ver lachen! - He laughed so hard he pissed
himself!
Er egt alle Mädchen flach! - He screws all the girls!
The Yiddish words I think I'll leave for you to figure out for yourselves.
*******************
The bombing continued relentlessly, even into the nights as ack-ack arced into the reddened sky, the mortars pounding the battered Russian defences lining the few hundred yards of buildings and wharves along the banks of the increasingly icy Volga river.
For Nikolai and Rivka time stretched into endless hours of doing nothing, night and day became intermingled, and if it hadn't been for the distant, dim light coming from the end of the tunnel near the river they would never have known it was daytime.
Rivka spent her time trying to keep them both warm. The entrance to the river was both a blessing and a curse - although it left the avenue open not only for fresh water but also for a chance of escape, albeit a slim one, the drawback soon became painfully apparent - the icy blasts of cold air that shot through if the wind was in the right direction, straight from the freezing Tsaritsa river.
She soon discovered Nikolai was feeling the cold badly. Loss of blood and weakness from his wounds made him vulnerable, and she had awoken during their first night in the sewer complex to find him shivering with chills, and for a moment she panicked, thinking his fever had returned. He had insisted on sleeping on the outer side of the ledge, shielding Rivka from harm and letting her sleep in the relative shelter of the old walls. But it left him vulnerable to a slight but persistent freezing draught, and when she discovered how chilled he was she lost her temper.
Nikolai lay, hunched and miserable, as Rivka ranted softly and covered him with her portion of the blankets, and then she held him close and rubbed his frozen body into warmth, the big man relaxing into her strong arms. She kissed him gently, told him he was a big idiot, and then snuggled down beside him, her body heating his. Slowly he thawed out and the shivering stopped, and he sighed and fell asleep, Rivka smiling to herself as she listened to the distant booming of the mortars and the quiet breathing of Nikolai slumbering beside her.
When they awoke to another gloomy, twilight day, she decided they would move back towards the doorway. Nikolai protested.
"Are you crazy, woman? Do you really want a grenade lobbed into your lap?"
But Rivka insisted.
"Better that, than you catching pneumonia - don't argue with me on this, Nikolai Koulikov, because I'll tell you now, you won't win!"
Nikolai looked at the stubborn set of her jaw - a look he was beginning to know very well - and relented, helping her shift their gear back along the ledge and out of the icy chill of the wind.
A little more comfortable, they then faced a new problem. Boredom. The hours stretched into days, and even Nikolai, a man used to waiting patiently for hours in frozen, bombed-out buildings, began to get edgy. When night came and the gunfire and explosions lessened, Rivka would chance lighting a lamp, and they would curl up together on the old mattress, under their mound of blankets and clothes, Nikolai making Rivka wear his big, fur-lined hat with the earflaps down. She looked so adorably silly he burst out laughing, Rivka reddening with embarrassment but unwilling to relinquish the warmth of the hat. So she hit him gently instead, calling him unkind names which reduced the big sniper into helpless hysterics, teeth glittering in the dark, Rivka dissolving into giggles at his behaviour.
She had brought some books into hiding with them, and Nikolai would lie quietly spooned behind her as she softly read to him, soothing him with her voice and filling his mind with images of gentler times. When her eyes grew tired of straining to see the words in the dim light she would lie snug in his arms and they would talk. She spoke of her childhood in the village, of how happy she was and how good her parents were. She wept quietly as she spoke of the younger brother that died of typhus when he was three years old, and Nikolai held her and kissed her until she fell asleep in his care. He told her of his time in Gnossen, and how he had joined the army during the Revolution, still a teenager but eager to make his way in the world.
But mostly they just waited, eating cold meals of bacon and bread, drinking hot tea only at night when Nikolai decided it was safe enough to light the little field stove. She occasionally cooked some potatoes in their jackets, and they juggled them in gloved fingers, slowly eating them with chunks of black bread and a little lard.
Nikolai's health began to suffer. The cold bothered him still, and although his wounds were healing, he needed rest, and the stress of constantly being on guard and listening to every noise that echoed down the tunnel began to tell on him. He developed a slight cough that worried Rivka to death, convinced he was getting pneumonia, but he reassured her it was just the incessant cold. Only when she persisted in her concern did her tell her the real reason - his lungs had been damaged during his 'interrogation' with the NKVD on his return from Gnossen, when he had been accused of treachery and they had knocked out his teeth. The wire they had fed down his nose into his lungs had damaged the lining, and his voice shook in the telling of it. He had passed out from the pain, he said, and Rivka had to hold him tight to chase away the horror of the memory in both of them.
So they endured the discomfort and the fear as the days passed, listening as the bombing faded and was replaced by bursts of gunfire, Nikolai knowing that the situation was becoming frighteningly dangerous. German soldiers would now be combing through the bombed-out streets, searching for Russian stragglers and shooting anything that moved, including civilians. That was war, he knew, and the Russian soldiers would no doubt have done the same.
Settling down under the blankets he held Rivka to him and nuzzled a soft kiss into her hair, waiting for her to drift into sleep. Beside him under the pillow was the Luger, fully loaded and ready to go. He coughed gently, trying not to disturb the woman lying in his arms, and began to doze.
********************
Rivka awoke to raucous laughter.
Disorientated, she struggled to sit up and was frightened as a big hand covered her mouth, stifling her words of enquiry. She managed to look up into a pair of deep blue eyes, and Nikolai put the finger of his free hand to his lips, indicating to her that she must be silent.
There was more laughter, and the sound of harsh male voices. Rivka's eyes widened.
There were soldiers in the cellar … in her
home.
Something crashed to the floor, bringing more roars of laughter, and Nikolai
put his lips close to her ear, whispering softly.
"Germans. They turned up about an hour ago. The buggers seem to be settling in for the night."
Rivka listened carefully as the voices continued, Nikolai removing his hand from her mouth and easing the Luger out from beneath his pillow. She looked at the weapon in sudden panic and Nikolai reassured her with a grin.
"Just in case. Don't worry - I'm not about to charge in there and try and kill the lot of 'em …" His voice was barely loud enough for her to catch the words. "I think they're just looking for somewhere to kip for the night, by the sound of it. With luck they'll probably move on in the morning. All we have to do is be quiet and wait. Do you understand?"
Rivka looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. She sat up and rested beside him, noting the change in the big soldier - his body was tense, prepared, his face calm and capable. She realised she was in his realm now, a world of danger and death, one in which he moved with ease. She was distracted by more noise, this time of fists banging on a table, she thought, and more laughter.
Leaning close to Nikolai she whispered softly.
"What are they doing?"
Nikolai grinned.
"Drinking, I should think. I heard one of 'em mention schnapps a while ago, and by the sound of it they're getting pretty drunk. That's good - they'll be less likely to poke about if they're drunk."
"Drunk??" Rivka was incensed. "What do you mean, drunk? I thought they were supposed to be soldiers! How can they drink at a time like this? Why don't they just go to sleep and go away in the morning?" She couldn't even imagine the damage they were doing.
"Shhh!" Nikolai's grin widened, despite Rivka's indignant voice getting louder as she protested, the thought of damage to her home far outweighing any fear she had. He had to admire her fire … God, he loved her even more when she was angry. "They're just soldiers, Rivka. When you're caught up in a battle like this one, you get any pleasure you can, when you can. One of 'em will have a bottle hidden about him somewhere, and they're going to relax while they have the chance - they could all be dead tomorrow. Doesn't matter if you're a Russian, German or Italian - it's just the way of war, Rivka. They're human beings, after all."
Rivka's eyes narrowed in fury.
"But they don't have to smash my home up while they're doing it, the beggars! Why don't they go schtup themselves! Mamzer! Schtik drek!" The words hissed from her in anger.
Nikolai's eyebrows raised in amusement - whatever the words meant he had no idea, but he mentally stored them away just in case she ever threw them at him.
The voices grew louder, more ribald, and Nikolai began to listen in earnest. His German was rusty but workable, and he heard the bawdy comments as they teased one of their number about his sexual prowess. He gauged their number to be about five or so, he reckoned, no officers, just ordinary infantrymen. One of them was very young, he knew. An older voice began to taunt the lad.
"Ja!! Er egt alle Mädchen flach!"
Rivka tried to make out the words but failed.
"What is he saying?"
Nikolai didn't know whether he should tell her. He heard the older voice continue, telling his compatriots how he had found the lad in a Berlin brothel banging away at a middle-aged whore, mewling like a baby as he spent himself noisily in a woman for the first time in his life. The others roared with laughter, and Nikolai could almost see the young soldier blush crimson, his voice tart with denial and eager to get his own back on his tormentor. He taunted the older soldier, saying that he may well have laughed at the lad, but at least the young man had found a woman - and wasn't it true that the older soldier had a weak bladder?
"Er hat sich bepisst ver lachen!"
There was a growl of anger and the scrape of chairs being pushed back as the group of soldiers tried to hold back the older man, the youngster laughing derisively at his comrade-in-arms.
Rivka was now getting frustrated, and tugged at Nikolai's sleeve.
"Niko!!! What are they saying???"
Nikolai smirked and whispered in Rivka's ear, and he felt her face grow warm in embarrassment.
"Oh! Oh, I see. But why don't they just go to sleep?"
"They're unwinding, woman. It's a way of saying 'Thank God I made it through the day'."
Rivka couldn't argue with that. So she snuggled into Nikolai's side and tried to relax, the big sniper staying alert, his hand resting on the comforting cool metal of the old Luger. She felt him shiver with cold, and wished with all her heart that she could take him to her big old bed and keep him warm with her body, loving him thoroughly until he fell asleep in contentment, wrapped in the welcome of her arms.
Nikolai sat propped against the damp wall, feeling the cold seep into his bones. The warmth of Rivka's body helped a little, and she held him close he knew, trying to stop the chill coursing through him. His wounds ached like bloody hell, he had to admit, and he was beginning to have problems controlling the dry cough that threatened to break from his chest.
Settling in for the night, the soldiers quietened slowly, and Nikolai listened as they talked into the early hours, the relief at making it alive through the day stopping them from getting much sleep. But he also knew that they would be heading out in the morning back into the inferno that was Stalingrad. He doubted whether they would all survive.
For hours Nikolai sat, listening, thinking, while Rivka did her best to keep him warm as she saw the breath plume from him in the freezing air. This was the coldest night yet, and when she scrambled to fetch him a cup of water from her last water bottle she found a couple of centimetres of ice sitting on the top. Nikolai wouldn't let her break it - too much noise, he said. He would wait until they had gone. So she opened one of her precious jars of conserve and spread it thickly on the last of the black bread, hoping that the sweetness of the blackcurrants and berries would give him a much-needed burst of energy. He sat and savoured the flavour of the fruit, the smile on his face so sweet she could have wept for him. What he really needed, she decided, was a hot drink of tea, but she dared not light the stove. That too would have to wait.
The night seemed endless. The snores emanating from the cellar allowed Rivka to relax a little, and she drifted into a light doze, lulled by the sound of Nikolai's heart beating in his broad chest. She lay loosely wrapped around him, head on his chest, and Nikolai was grateful for her touch. He had to admit finally the dark was getting to him. He didn't like it, he decided. He didn't like it one little bit. It stifled him, it fed on his fear for Rivka, growing like an insidious, creeping evil that wouldn't let go -
BANG!!!
The sudden noise made him jump, and Rivka awoke with a cry.
He heard yells of confusion, and then the sudden chatter of gunfire from the other side of the wall. There were screams of agony and the crashing of bodies … then silence. Then a quiet, pleading moan, a young voice, almost childlike in its terror, hurt, terrified. There was a single, final shot … and then nothing.
Nikolai scrambled to his feet, hissing at the pain in his side and the stiffness in his limbs. He handed Rivka the Tokarev.
"Get back! Go, Rivka - get well back, I said!"
Rivka balked.
"Niko! What if - "
He turned, his face grim with anger. He clutched her tightly by the shoulders and shoved her in the direction of the river.
"I said GO!"
Rivka stumbled backward and for a moment she almost ran towards the growing light in the distance - it was dawn, she knew. But turning back she saw Nikolai concentrating on the small doorway, his old Luger gripped confidently in his hand, his big frame braced against the damp wall. Whoever came through the doorway first would get a nine-millimetre bullet in the head for their troubles.
She slipped the safety off the Tokarev and worked the receiver, loading a round into the chamber. Whatever happened, she would back him up - and if all hope was lost, she would die with him. She swallowed her fear, and waited.
They waited for what seemed like an eternity. Then Nikolai heard the grate on the floor of the heavy dresser in front of the door as it was shoved to one side, and the bolt on the door slid open. He braced himself as the door slowly opened, waiting for the grenade to be lobbed through - if he was quick enough he could chuck it back through the opening. If not, at least getting blown to bits was painless, he reckoned.
But nothing happened. Nothing at all. Then a voice came through the small opening.
"Nikolai? Nikolai, are you there? Answer me, you big idiot!"
Nikolai was almost boneless with relief, air exploding from him in a huge sigh as he recognised Vassili Zaitsev's voice, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Vassili, you silly bugger! I could have shot you, boy!!!"
Vassili's grinning face peered through the hole.
"Told you I'd be back! Are you two all right? How has it been?"
But Nikolai couldn't answer because he had Rivka in his arms. She had flown to him as soon as Vassili appeared, flinging herself into his waiting arms and holding him so tight she didn't think she could ever let him go. He was murmuring assurances into the wealth of her hair, and he held her to him, drawing strength from her passion. She looked up at him and they kissed, deeply and urgently, needing the contact.
Finally they broke apart, each needing to take a breath before they passed out from lack of air, and Nikolai turned to a highly amused Vassili.
"Are you going to tell me what happened out there?"
Vassili's features sobered.
"I, ah … well, you had Germans in the cellar …" he saw Nikolai's face become tense. "Well, I suppose you knew that." He took a deep breath and continued. "We've been working our way forward from the river and we managed to take this area last night. We've just been mopping up the stragglers, and I headed this way as soon as I could." His eyes looked away in anger. "I got here just as some of the infantry found the Fritz soldiers here in the cellar. I couldn't stop 'em Nikolai. It's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid …"
Nikolai nodded in understanding.
"It's all right, lad. I'll come out and give you a hand to clean up …"
"No, Nikolai - it's all right. They're cleaning up now, so I think you'll be clear of the - I mean, the mess will be gone if you give us a few minutes, all right?"
Nikolai looked at the young man. Vassili Zaitsev had a good heart. He turned to Rivka as Vassili disappeared back into the cellar and shut the door, and he heard voices and a slick, slithering noise as 'the mess' was disposed of.
"Rivka - why don't you put that stove on and we'll have some tea? I could do with a hot drink, couldn't you?"
Rivka could guess what the conversation had been about, but she decided she didn't want to know - as long as her home was cleaned up she would live with the fact that five men had been shot to death in cold blood. She couldn't afford to be judgmental, as she knew she would have done it herself if it had saved Nikolai's life.
They sat for an hour, sipping hot tea and waiting as Vassili did his best to tidy up the 'mess', but when the young sniper finally helped them back into the freedom and air of the old cellar, Rivka could not contain a gasp of dismay.
Vassili had done a fair job of washing away the blood, but the mess and general disarray was appalling. The soldiers had broken crockery, and shattered many of the old dishes she kept on the shelves. Her water-buckets were smashed, and they had indiscriminately ruined as much as they could. The chairs were battered, and she was shocked to discover bullet-holes in her stove. The door into the cellar had been forced off its hinges and the brazier - thankfully unlit - had been tipped over the floor, leaving ashes and charcoal scattered everywhere. Her home was ruined.
"I have to go, Nikolai. I have to get back to headquarters - I have men waiting outside. I'll let them know you're still alive, but I might not get back until tomorrow. Is that all right? You'll manage until then?"
Rivka patted him on the arm.
"Don't worry, Vassili. We'll be all right. We can bolt the trapdoor down until we get the door fixed."
Nikolai looked at the young soldier.
"If you can find me a rifle I'll come with you - "
Vassili shook his head vehemently.
"No, my friend. You're still not well enough - anyway, you'd just hold me up and I'd spend more time worrying about you and not watching out for myself, so stay here and keep out of trouble, y'hear me?"
He studied the two of them - Rivka looked exhausted and dishevelled, her eyes huge with distress - and Nikolai looked dreadful, he thought. Cold, very sore and greatly in need of some rest. It was obvious he was still far from healed, and Vassili was sure he needed at least a few more days in bed … with Rivka, preferably.
"Right - I'm off. I'll be by tomorrow and bring some rations. The ferries are still managing across the river, so just hole up here and keep safe. You're well within our lines now, so just stay put until the Big Push comes. It'll be soon, I promise. They say we should have Stalingrad won by Christmas." Vassili grinned. "Keep well, my friends. See you tomorrow." And with that he disappeared out of the trapdoor to his men and was gone.
Rivka scrambled up and bolted the trapdoor shut, and then decided on where to start first. She shifted bedding back through the hole and made up the bed - thankfully untouched by the German intruders - and then she started to scrub. The bullet holes in the stove didn't stop her from lighting a fire and heating the chilled room, and she sat Nikolai in her old chair, wrapping him in a blanket to keep him warm. When she was done, she thought, she would put him to bed and he could sleep.
For two hours, Nikolai watched Rivka try to remove every taint of the German soldiers, from the shattered crockery to the spilled lentils, from the missed bloodstains on the wall to the empty bottle of schnapps she found beside the brazier. He saw the despair in her eyes and the desperation on her face - her home had been violated, and she felt it keenly. She swept up the mess of ashes on the floor, and cried out in anger when she found her mother's cut-glass salt-cellar shattered beyond repair in the grating. That was the last straw. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as the past few days of terror finally caught up with her.
Nikolai had felt useless, his wounds preventing him from helping, and he also knew Rivka could not have coped with trying to watch out for him and salvage what was left of her home into the bargain.
But when she began to weep he couldn't sit any longer. He managed to get to his feet and fold her into his arms, whispering soft words and kissing her brow. She was distraught.
"It's all right Rivka … they're only things … at least we made it, didn't we? We're alive, aren't we? I know, it seems bad now but - "
He immediately realised he had said the wrong thing.
Rivka pushed him away, hands on his chest, her face twisted with anger. The fear and distress poured from her in torrents, and the anger consumed her completely.
"What the hell do you mean, things??? This is my home, Nikolai!! All I have is here! All I ever wanted, everything that means anything to me is in this one room! Do you understand me?" She was ranting with fury, her lean body shaking with the tension.
He was instantly apologetic, but he tried to reason with her.
"I'm sorry Rivka, it's just we made it out of there alive … and I just think this isn't as important - "
"What do you know??" she spat. "You've never had a real home of your own!! You've just wandered from place to place, never putting down roots - nothing has ever mattered to you the way my home matters to me!!!" She stood looking up at him, eyes afire with anger and righteous indignation. "Why should you care?? You'll just leave as soon as you're fit and able and to hell with the stupid Jewess that spread her legs for you and kept you warm at night!! You're a heartless bastard, Nikolai Koulikov - "
And instantly she realised what she had said. She saw Nikolai flinch at her words, his face pale with shock. There was silence. Then Nikolai turned to pick up his coat. His voice was soft and calm, his words gentle.
"Yes, Rivka - that's exactly what I am. A bastard." She watched, appalled, as he struggled painfully into his greatcoat, the agony making him groan as he twisted trying to put his arm in the sleeve. "I'll … I'll head off down to the bunker … I can kip there. I'm sorry, Rivka. I'm sorry I hurt you …"
"Oh Nikolai …" Her voice broke.
Before he could go any further she was holding him, arms tight around him, kissing his face and mouth, words tumbling from her.
"I'm sorry, Niko … I'm so sorry … please, love, I didn't mean it … please forgive me, that was such a dreadful thing to say to you … I was so cruel … dear God, Niko, I should never have said it …"
And her hands reached up to cup his tired face, her lips moulded to his and she began to love him. Still kissing him, her hands left his face and pushed the greatcoat from his big frame, the garment falling to the floor unheeded. She slid the suspenders from broad shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt, needing to feel his bare skin.
Nikolai broke off the kiss and gazed at her with eager blue eyes - her words were forgotten, and she wanted him. He felt her tug the shirt from his pants and her deft hands reached underneath to pull up his undershirt, and he gasped at the touch of her fingers on his skin.
"Come to bed, my Niko …" Rivka smiled up at him through her tears, and kissed him once more, deeply, her tongue delving into his mouth, meeting his. Nikolai pulled her to him, and Rivka felt his hands hold her hips against his arousal. He wanted her badly.
They tumbled onto the big bed, Nikolai careful of his wounds, and Rivka unlaced his boots and tossed them on the floor. Then she straddled him, still fully-clothed, and began to unbutton his pants, Nikolai chuckling quietly at her desire. But the chuckles turned to sighs as her hands slid his pants and longjohns from his hips, freeing him, and she pulled them from his long legs and dumped them on the chair beside the bed.
Rivka felt Nikolai's fingers undoing her dress, and within moments he had removed the restrictive clothing, and Rivka shifted sideways so he could take off her drawers and stockings. He slipped out of his shirt and undershirt, with Rivka's help, and he shivered in the cool air of the room.
Rivka noticed the goosebumps on his skin.
"Into bed, I think …"
They managed to pull back the sheets and blankets and Nikolai relaxed back on the pillows, propped comfortably against the bedstead. Rivka slipped in beside him, still in camisole and petticoats, but Nikolai would have none of it. He unlaced her camisole and pulling her body up to him he dropped a curly head to her breasts, suckling at the brown peaks, making Rivka cry out with the pleasure of it. She straddled him once more and Nikolai ran a hand up her thigh under the petticoats, seeking the soft curls at her groin. He was very hard and ready, but he wanted to arouse Rivka even more, and he found the damp curls, slipping fingers into her slick channel and stroking purposefully.
Rivka arched her back at the pleasure of his touch.
"Oh God, Nikolai … so wonderful … mmm … sweet, ahhhh!!!"
She had to pull away, the joy of it was so much, and removing the inhibiting petticoats by pulling them over her head she dropped her mouth to Nikolai's broad chest, tonguing his nipples and the line of his ribs. She put her hand on his erection and stroked him into shuddering thrusts, telling him how much she wanted him.
"You're so beautiful, my Niko … I love how you move inside me … how you touch me and make love to me. Did you know that? I can feel you deep, deep inside as you move, and it is so delicious, Niko … so wonderful …"
Nikolai cried out as she shifted her touch from him to lie down in the big bed, and he couldn't stop himself from rolling over, and with a growl of desire he pushed her thighs apart with his knee. Moving between her legs he sought and found the place he needed, and Rivka felt him nudge gently into her.
He halted for a moment, gazing down into huge brown eyes full of desire for him.
"You're all I ever wanted, Rivka. All there is worth living for." And with those words he thrust deeply, filling her in one movement, hearing her cry of pleasure as he sheathed himself in her depths.
Then the world was all movement and pleasure, their hips straining together, Nikolai's thrusts powerful against her loins. He moaned with ecstasy as he moved, her body spread beneath him and her legs wrapped around his striving flanks. Her heels pulled him deeper, and the crown of his penis touched the very neck of her womb, and she clutched and gasped at the feel of him. A big hand grasped her buttocks and held her to him as his pace quickened, and Nikolai wished he had the strength to kneel and lift her hips to him so he could watch his manhood thrust in her. But the thought soon disappeared as sensation took him, his movements becoming desperate in his need to finish.
Rivka was in heaven. She clutched and gasped at his muscular body as he moved above her, she felt the flexing of his hips as he drove deeper and she loved to hear the groans of delight rumbling from his chest as he thrust.
"More, my Niko … fill me … empty yourself in me …"
Her words drove him on, and his groans turned into deep growls as his orgasm began to build, Rivka teetering on the brink of completion as his hands tightened convulsively. And then he felt her shudders, her hand tight at his buttocks holding him to her as she reached orgasm, hips bucking against him as his own world exploded.
His body shook, holding Rivka tightly as his last, final thrusts took him over the edge and he climaxed harder than he had ever done in his life, his seed spilling into her body in powerful spurts as his thrusts turned into overwhelming shudders of pleasure, his loins stilled in passion, his back arched over her in this final moment of pure love. He emptied himself in her to distraction, his cries of pleasure muffled as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck, his hips snugly cradled by Rivka's straining thighs.
Slowly, gently, they came down from the heights of their loving, and Nikolai collapsed in Rivka's welcoming arms, her voice crooning words of joy and contentment. She held him tight as he relaxed, not letting him shift from within her, wanting to stay there for as long as he could.
They settled into the big bed, spent, Nikolai finally easing from her warm body and she sighed in regret. But soon Rivka curled beside him, her body draped over his good side and her hand resting on his broad chest.
He kissed her on the top of her head.
"Feel better now?"
Rivka kissed his chest in return.
"Mm-hm. I'm sorry Niko. I said a dreadful thing - "
He touched her lips with his finger, stilling her words.
"No, Rivka. You don't need to apologise - you're right. I've never had a home of my own, really. I didn't understand … it was a bloody silly thing for me to say …"
She looked up at him with shining eyes.
"Nikolai, my sweet … from now on this is your home. Wherever you are, know this - you will always, always, have a home to go to. Do you understand?"
Nikolai smiled, his eyes glowing with the meaning of her words.
"Yes, Missus - I suppose I do. I have a home. A home of my own, and a woman who cares for me. I've never had that before, my lady Rivka …"
And leaning down, he kissed her.
It had been a hard few days, and Rivka tightened her arms around him and checked to see if he was all right. His wounds were bothering him, and he was , very tired - but he was content, she could tell. He tucked back a stray tendril of hair on her brow, laid his head back on the pillow, and drifted into a dreamless sleep with Rivka safe in his arms at last.
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