#orc au

It seemed like he couldn’t go five minutes without touching you, whether that was settling one of his big hands on the small of your back while the two of you wandered through the town’s harvest festival. Or the way he hooked his heavy arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side when you went out for drinks with friends.

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized how touch-starved you were until you’d met Bucky. You enjoyed the brush of his warm palms, the teasing touch of his ghosting fingers and the steady weight of his heavy hands too much to tell him to stop. 

It helped that Bucky’s touches were always innocent. His hands never drifted anywhere inappropriate, and it never felt like he was trying to coax you into something more. Even though sometimes you wished he would.

Still, as innocent as it was, Bucky’s wandering hands often drove you to distraction. While you’d accepted it as part of your life with him, and you enjoyed having the clingy orc as your best friend, it could be inconvenient at times.

Case in point: It was the morning of your annual Halloween movie marathon, and you were busy in the kitchen of your little cottage on the edge of town, trying to bake some spooky sprinkle cookies. 

Bucky had arrived bright and early, a tray of hot, steaming coffee and a bag of pastries in hand, to “help” you with the task. However, all he’d managed to do was finish his own drink in record time and stand behind you with his hands on your hips while he watched over your shoulder as you measured out ingredients.

The problem was his hands didn’t stay still. His fingers slipped beneath your sweater, pressing into the warm skin of your belly above the hem of your leggings, and the feeling was so surprising, so distracting—so good—that your hands shook and you spilled flour all over the countertop.

“Bucky,” you whined, staring at the wreckage in front of you and huffing an annoyed breath. “You know the rules,” you began, shooting a glare over your shoulder at the big orc. “Keep your hands on the outside of my clothes while I’m handling easily spillable things.”

You grabbed his thick wrist—not for the first time marveling over the fact that your fingers didn’t even come close to closing around it—and yanked his hand out from under your sweater. Out of habit, you set his palm back on your hip and grabbed a damp kitchen towel to begin cleaning up.

Bucky, at least, had the decency to look chastened. He plucked the towel from your hand, sweeping the loose flour into his palm while you lifted your mixing bowl.

“I’m sorry, baby doe, I wasn’t thinking,” Bucky murmured, his tusks protruding more as he pouted a little.

Heaving a sigh, you let the frustration dissolve as you exhaled, and you gave him a smile. It was impossible to stay mad at your best friend when he sounded so remorseful—and when he helped you clean up the messes he caused you to make.

“I forgive you, just try to be careful, Buck, please,” you said, turning back to your mixing bowl and beginning to sift flour in again.

Bucky slid in behind you, and you paused, waiting for him to get comfortable. He wrapped his thick arms around your front and tucked his chin on top of your head, rumbling a pleased sound in his chest. You could practically see the contented smile on his face.

Only once he’d settled did you continue what you were doing, muttering, “Sometimes, I think you’d live inside me if I let you.”

Your words had a sudden, and more severe effect on your best friend than you’d anticipated.

Bucky’s arms tightened, his whole body going taut, and he rumbled a deep sound in his chest, almost like a purr. Desire slid like warm chocolate down your spine, and you quickly set your sifter aside before you could make another mess.

“Don’t tempt me, baby doe.” 

You went still, confused by the shift in the mood of the room and what you’d done to cause it. You’d worked hard to keep your feelings for Bucky bottled up, but it felt like you’d accidentally let some spill free along with the flour. It also felt like he might return your feelings.

“Wha-what do you mean?” 

As if to explain, Bucky pressed his hips flush to your body, and you felt the thick ridge of his cock dig into your lower back. He was so hot and hard, you gasped, gripping the edge of the counter and instinctively pushing up onto your tiptoes to press your ass into him.

“Buck.” His name on your lips was a pitiful whine, dissolving into a wanton moan when he lifted you off your feet, slotting his cock between the cheeks of your ass through your leggings. 

“I’d love to live inside you, baby doe,” Bucky murmured. “I dream about it—dream about having you impaled on my cock, strapped to the front of my body to keep you there, while I go about my day.”

Your best friend rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock into your ass, and all you could do was tilt your head to the side, giving Bucky access to press wet, suckling kisses down the line of your neck. When he nipped you teasingly with his tusks, you mewled desperately. 

“I want to make you my permanent, pretty little cocksleeve, pet,” Bucky went on, his voice growing deeper and darker, his hands beginning to wander, groping your soft curves as he spoke. “Want you to be so used to being full of my cock, it feels strange when I’m not inside you.”

“Oh—oh my god,” you gasped, heart racing in your chest. Heat suffused your body so thoroughly, you had the distant, wild thought that you’d left the oven on too long. “We’re just friends,” you said dumbly, knowing even as you said the words that they were a far-cry from the simple truth. “We don’t do that.”

“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?” he murmured teasingly in your ear, and the heat in your body rose to your cheeks. “You’ve thought about what it would be like for me to slide my thick, orc cock into your sweet little human pussy.”

He said the words so assuredly, you wanted to proest—but you couldn’t. Because it’d be a lie. 

Of course, you’d thought about it. Of course, you’d thought about being with Bucky. He was so kind and considerate, and so big, you couldn’t help but be curious…

“I’ve thought about it endlessly, baby doe,” Bucky confessed. One of his hands drifted down to your belly, until his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your mound over your leggings. “I’ve thought about filling you with my seed, about you growing round with my youngling.”

A tremor of desire shivered down your spine, your nipples tightening with need beneath your sweater. Leaning into Bucky’s hulking form, your head fell back against his shoulder, letting his voice flow over you.

“I can smell the way you slicken when the townsfolk try to warn you away from me,” he rumbled, his fingers teasing the waist of your leggings. “I’ve tried to be patient and wait for you to come to me, but I’m losing my mind here, baby doe. Tell me I’m not alone—please.”

Bucky’s final word sounded like it was ripped from the very depths of his soul, and it cracked you open.

A helpless, pitiful whimper slipped from your lips and you shuddered in your best friend’s arms as you let yourself feel everything you’d stuffed down deep for so long.

“Bucky,” you started, turning in his arms to face him. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you wound your arms around his neck, practically climbing his massive body to look him in the eye. “You’re not alone—I feel it, too.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky murmured seconds before capturing your lips in a kiss. 

All the emotion you’d bottled up surged forward, rushing to the surface, and you kissed Bucky with all that you had, your best friend meeting you with his infinite passion and desire. For long, blissful moments, you reveled in each other, exalting in the joy of finally coming together.

When you nipped at Bucky’s lower lip, he chuckled deep in his chest, sending delightful shivers of pleasure down your spine to settle heavily between your thighs. And when you ran your tongue teasingly over his tusks, he groaned so deep, you felt yourself growing obscenely wet, your body aching to be filled.

“Are you going to let me have you, baby doe? Are you going to let me touch you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming about for years?”

“God, Bucky, yes, please,” you gasped. “I’m yours, touch me however you want. Just fill me up. Please.”

The orc let out a low groan, ducking down to grab you around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up until your legs circled his waist, your center settling deliciously against the impossibly thick girth in his pants.

“We’ll get there, but it’s going to take some work, baby doe,” Bucky murmured, carrying you out of the kitchen and into your living room. He sank down onto your orc-sized couch, pulling you on top of him.

Your thighs were spread obscenely wide across Bucky’s lap, his massive bulge hot and hard against your already drenched core. You were so distracted by the devastatingly perfect feel of him, of his mouth on your skin as he kissed your jaw, that it took a moment to understand his words.

“What do you mean work?”

A husky chuckle ghosted over your neck and you shivered. Bucky grabbed your hips and dragged your slit slowly up and down the imposingly long ridge of his cock.

“Feel that, pet?” Bucky rumbled in your ear, his voice gruff with desire. “It’s all for you, but we gotta make sure you’re ready for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Your pussy gave a hungry pulse, and a soft, needy whimper slipped from your lips. Your fingers curled into claws in his t-shirt, tugging uselessly at the fabric that was in the way.

“Want to feel you, Buck—really feel you.”

Your eyes found his, pleading wordlessly with your best friend. His hands slid beneath your sweater again, dragging the hem up until it snagged on the lower curves of your breasts. He paused, raising his brows in a silent question, and you nodded eagerly.

Agonizingly slowly, Bucky undressed you, a reverence in his gaze as he peeled away the layers of your clothes like he was unwrapping the most precious of gifts. When your sweater and bra were discarded, he hauled you up his chest so that he could lavish your tits in worshipping, suckling kisses. 

The orc rumbled a groan deep in his chest as he sucked on your nipples, the vibrations reverberating delightfully through your body until you were grinding down on his stomach. You could feel the hard-packed muscle beneath a layer of softness, and it drove you wild, humping against Bucky like he was a firm pillow between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby doe, I can feel how wet you are,” Bucky muttered, his words muffled against your bare skin. 

When you looked down, sure enough, you’d left a wet spot on his sweater, the fabric dark with your arousal. Heat rose to your cheeks and you covered your face in embarrassment, mumbling a scandalized, “Ohmygod.”

But Bucky only chuckled, gently prying your hands away from your face and bringing your mouth to his for a sweet, slow kiss. You melted into him, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers carding lazily through his soft hair. 

“Should I take my shirt off, baby doe, let you really mark me with your scent?” Bucky teased, his tusks practically twitching with mirth as he tried to keep the smirk off his face. 

“Mean,” was all you said before kissing him again. “But yes, take your shirt off.”

Another laugh rumbled in Bucky’s chest but he did as you asked. In half the time it had taken Bucky to strip you of your sweater, he undressed himself and the rest of you. When you settled back on his lap, it was skin-to-skin and the sheer heat of him—the delicious scent of him, like earth and air—was so overwhelming, you moaned loudly. 

Bucky captured your mouth in a decadent kiss, swallowing down your sounds of pleasure as he rearranged the two of you on the couch. He reclined into the cushions, half-laying down while you sprawled on top of him, the monstrous ridge of his cock wedged between your thighs. 

When you broke from the kiss to catch your breath, you couldn’t help but satisfy your curiosity, casting your gaze down between your bodies to Bucky’s cock. When you saw him, your eyes went wide—not from fear or apprehension, but from excitement.

“Don’t worry, baby doe, it’ll fit,” Bucky murmured, misinterpreting your expression. He brushed a soothing kiss to your temple.

You gave an impolite snort and looked at your best friend. “Oh, I know it will,” you said, a smirk curling the edges of your mouth. “It’ll just take some work, right, Buck?” you asked teasingly, but you didn’t give your best friend a chance to answer.

Planting your hands on Bucky’s pecs, you rolled your hips in a slow, delicious slide, dragging your wet pussy up and down the shaft of his cock. Your lower lips were split obscenely wide around his thick girth, but you were so wet, dripping with so much arousal, that it wasn’t long before you were coating him in your desire.

“Jesus—fuck, you feel so good leaking all over my cock,” Bucky growled, his blue eyes dark like an autumn night as he watched your pussy grind against his cock. “Good girl, get me all nice and slick—it’ll make it so much easier to stuff your sweet little human cunt full of my fat cock.”

“Oh god,” you cried, your entire body shuddering with want. Before you could think to stop them, words tumbled from your lips. “I want your cock so bad, Buck, want you to split me open, want you to ruin me for anyone else.”

“Baby doe.” The pet named was a guttural growl, and when you glanced up at Bucky’s handsome face, you found him staring at you like you’d hung the moon in the sky. “You’ve already ruined me for anyone else.”

Your mouth dropped open at the confession, but your best friend wasn’t done.

“I’ll never want anyone else but you, baby doe,” Bucky rumbled, his voice laced with emotion. “You’re the perfect mate for me, and you can have me however you want me—whether it’s as friends, or something more. My heart and soul are yours.” 

“Oh Bucky,” you cried, dragging his face to yours for a kiss. You kissed his passionately, letting him feel every bit of the love and devotion filling your chest. “I’m yours, Buck, I’m all yours—forever,” you promised, gasping for breath as you stared into his sapphire eyes. 

“Mine,” Bucky growled, his gaze darkening with a possessiveness that called to something deep in your soul. You grinned at your best friend—your mate—and echoed the word back to him.

“Mine.”

Before Bucky could capture you again in another long, heated kiss, you sat back, lifting up until the tip of his cock nudged at the tight, dripping hole between your thighs. The orc snarled hungrily, his hands grabbing your hips and helping to line you up. 

Holding Bucky’s gaze, you began to lower yourself on his cock, gasping when the blunt tip pushed into your tight channel. 

“Oh god,” you mumbled, eyes rolling back in your head at the sheer stretch of him. He was so big that you were panting, your cunt throbbing with pleasure. 

“Take it slow, pet, relax—don’t hurt yourself,” Bucky warned, and you blinked until you could focus on him again. 

It was grounding, staring into the eyes of your best friend, of the orc who knew you better than anyone else in the world. When the sting between your thighs eased, you lifted up, feeling the tip of Bucky’s cock pop free from your hole; then you pressed down again, taking another delicious inch of him.

“Good girl,” Bucky rumbled, his eyes going dark and hooded as he watched you. His gaze was admiring as it swept down your body, lingering on your curves. “You look so fucking gorgeous taking my cock, I could watch you all day.”

You huffed a half-hysterical laugh. “It better not take that long to make it fit,” you quipped breathlessly, rising up and sinking down on him again, taking even more. “God, Bucky, you’re so big,” you whined, tears springing to your lashes.

When you blinked the tears from your eyes, you found Bucky smirking smugly at you, his tusks proudly on display. 

“Want some help, baby doe?” he asked, his voice dripping with so much male satisfaction, you had to roll your eyes. “Want me to stuff that tight little cunt with my big cock?”

A soft, keening moan slipped from your lips, and your pussy pulsed around Bucky’s hardness, even more wetness gushing from your dripping hole. You couldn’t hide your body’s reaction, and he chuckled, sounding even more delightfully satisfied.  

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Still, Bucky paused, his gaze catching yours as he waited for your assent. You nodded your head, feeling a bit like a bobblehead, and urged him to take over.

Your best friend’s big hands cupped your ass, using his considerable strength to lift you up and pull you back down on his cock, inching deeper. Bucky spent long, luxurious minutes working his thick cock into your pussy, the delicious torture of him stretching you open seeming to go on forever.

All the while, he kept up a litany of praise, cooing about how good you were doing for him, how you were taking his cock so prettily. And when the tears that caught in your lashes splashed onto your cheeks, he tipped your face toward his so he could kiss them away. 

It was so perfect, you almost never wanted it to end. But there was an insatiable creature buried deep in your bones, and it craved the feeling of taking Bucky to the root. You needed to be full of him, to be so filled by your best friend’s cock that it left no room for doubt about who you belonged to.

“Almost there,” the orc purred after what seemed like an endless age. He kissed your bee-stung lips, his tusks nipping playfully before he pulled back to look at you. “You can take me all the way, can’t you, baby doe? You can take every inch of my cock?” 

“I can take it,” you said, hiccuping a sob while your hands gripped his bulging biceps. “Give it to me, Buck, gimme your whole cock. Stuff me full, show me I was made to take your cock.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something feral, and in the next moment he was biting out a command, “Deep breath, baby.” He waited until you filled your lungs with air, and then he yanked you down on his lap until your ass was flush with his tree-trunk thighs.

A piercing scream ripped from your lips, filling the cozy living room of your cottage as your mind went blank and pleasure—sharp and so deliciously sweet—tore through your body. There was an edge of stinging pain that cast the pleasure in much starker relief, overwhelming you as you succumbed to sensation.

It wasn’t until a moment later, when you crashed back into your body, that you realized you were coming. Your scream had dissolved into ragged, helpless sobs, and you shook violently against Bucky’s barrel chest, his sturdy arms wrapped around your body, one hand petting your back while the other held you on his lap.

“That’s my girl, so perfect, such a perfect mate, coming on my cock,” he rumbled, his voice growly and breathless in equal measure. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby doe—can feel your precious cunt gripping my cock like she never wants to let me go.”

“Never,” you gasped, echoing a word that you felt in your soul was important. “Never let me go, Buck.” 

“Never,” he promised, tipping your face toward his for a tender kiss.

For a long while, you simply kissed, enjoying the feeling of being joined together in the most physically intimate way possible. 

When you broke away for some air, you looked down your body, and noticed a slight bulge in your belly where Bucky’s cock was seated deep inside you. Your fingertips danced over the bump, your eyes wide with wonder.

A low chuckle came from Bucky, and he pressed his big palm against your stomach, making your cunt impossibly tighter around his cock. You felt him twitch, your body giving an answering clench as you moaned wantonly.

“This is where I belong,” Bucky murmured, ducking down and planting a kiss to the apple of your cheek, making you smile at the brush of his tusks. “Buried inside my sweet little baby doe. I’m going to stay right here as long as you’ll let me.”

You smiled dreamily at your orc, laying your hand over the back of his and pressing his palm more firmly against your belly. “You can stay as long as you want—as long as you fuck me first,” you sassed.

“Is that a new rule?” Bucky shot back, a feral grin stealing across his face. 

Before you could answer, he was moving. Cupping your ass, Bucky lifted you up until only the tip of him remained inside, then pulled you back down hard his cock.

An obscene cry spilled from your lips, your mind going blank as every bit of your being focused on the pleasure of his thick, veiny length dragging against your sensitive inner walls. It was almost too much, and yet not enough because you wanted more of that sensation—you were ravenous for it.

“More,” you sobbed, “please!”

Bucky grunted and set to work bouncing you on his cock, working you up and down his shaft like you were his own personal fuck toy. It was so absurdly hot that all you could do was sit pretty on his cock, your gaze flying between his savage expression and the sight of his cock bulging in your belly.

“Rub your pearl, baby doe,” Bucky growled. “Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come, and I want to feel you milking my cock.”

Your fingers slid between your thighs, finding your achy, swollen clit. It only took a few strokes to get you to the edge and you opened your mouth to tell Bucky you were close. But before you could, he surged up from below, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars.

You came again with another wailing scream, so suddenly that your sound of pleasure cut off on a vicious gasp. Tremors shook your entire body and it was only Bucky’s hands that kept you upright and impaled on his cock.

Your orc rutted into you from below, his dark blue gaze fixed on your face, watching as every bit of pleasure washed over your features. His expression was twisted with his own desire, his tusks bared and his nostrils flaring as he pounded into you. 

With a ferocious roar, Bucky threw his head back and his entire body went taut as he yanked you down hard on his cock. The sight of him coming was glorious, all corded muscle and barely-leashed, monstrous strength, his hips still working instinctively as his cock twitched in your cunt.

Your orc spilled rope after rope of thick come into your pussy, flooding your body until it was overflowing, leaking out around the edges of his fat cock. 

Once he eased down from his peak, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, guiding you to sprawl across his chest while his palms skated along your skin, touching you wherever he could reach. With a happy hum, you settled on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his touch even more when your body was loose and sated.

“Baby doe?” Bucky asked after a while, a hint of tentativeness in his tone. You hummed, encouraging him to go on. “Were you serious about letting me stay inside you as long as I want?”

“Mm,” you murmured, rousing yourself from the edge of sleep to lift your head and pout at Bucky. “I was, but I still want to bake those spooky sprinkle cookies for our movie night later.”

Something sparked in Bucky’s eye and a smirk spread slowly across his handsome face. “What if I told you I had something to let us do both?”

It turned out, orcs were clingy—and not just your best friend. 

So much so that someone had invented a type of harness to allow orcs to keep their partners strapped to their chests, and impaled on their cocks, while giving them the freedom to do other things.

It was easier to get into the adjustable harness than you would’ve expected, though Bucky did all the work. He slid you into the stiff leather, promising to get you a new one tailor-made to your bodies as soon as possible. 

Your orc was careful as he impaled you on his cock again, but it took much less effort, your pussy already stretched to accommodate his massive length.

A soft moan slipped from your lips when Bucky stood once the harness was secured. You were strapped tightly to his barrel chest, your legs supported by the harness and slung over his hips, leaving his hands free.

When he began to walk to your kitchen, Bucky’s cock shifted inside you and you mewled happily, feeling your pussy gush and clench around him.

Stroking a hand down your spine, Bucky purred, “Does that feel good, baby doe?”

You hummed a happy, dreamy, “Yeah,” and settled your cheek against Bucky’s sternum, enjoying the scent of his musk, the warmth of his skin, and the steady beating of his heart.

Dropping a kiss to the top of your head, Bucky rumbled a pleased sound as he came to a stop in your kitchen. “Now, tell me how to make these cookies—we can’t have our Halloween movie marathon without them.”

For the rest of the morning, and into the early afternoon, you guided Bucky through the recipe, watching over your shoulder. All the while, you enjoyed the feeling of being split open on your orc’s cock, and pressed tightly against his chest, so much of your bare skin touching his that you felt settled in a way that was bone-deep.

Bucky’s heart was a steady companion, beating rhythmically in your ear, letting you know just how happy he was to have you close.

Every once in a while, Bucky would roll his hips, driving his cock deep for a delicious moment, making you moan for him before he returned to his task. By the time the last batch of cookies were out of the oven, you were begging him to fuck you again. 

The two of you took a break while you ate lunch, then snuggled on the couch together. When you got sleepy, you laid down with Bucky, and he worked himself inside you. You took a short nap while Bucky watched some old Halloween favorites, waking up in time for the true spooky movie marathon to begin.

Bucky grunted every time one of the jump scares got you, feeling your body clench down on his cock. Your shrieks of terror dissolved into moans when he fucked you, slow and sweet, only letting you come when the movie ended.

By the end of the night, Bucky had buried so many loads in you, your belly bulged a little. He teased you with the idea of planting his seed in your womb, and watching you grow swollen with his youngling—though, since you were on birth control, it wasn’t likely to happen. 

Still, the idea made both of you equally feral.

Eventually, you and Bucky fell asleep on the couch together, your pussy stuffed full of your orc’s cock, while movies played on the TV.

It wasn’t the day you’d expected to have when you’d invited Bucky Barnes over for your anual Halloween movie night, but baking spooky sprinkle cookies with your clingy orc best friend while impaled on his cock turned out to be one of the best days of your life. 

And it was only the beginning.

"I am starving." He bawks. "Thank you sister for supper."

"Brother," Frin girds.

"Eh? She's a woman. What else can she expect?" Ralf sneers.

You keep your head down. You shiver as the frigid wind blows through the worn wool of your dress. Your father approaches.

"What news?" He asks.

Ralf chuckles and Frin digs his toe into the ground evasively. The General calls your father's name in his approach. You try not to draw attention as he approaches.

"You will be rewarded your sacrifice," the General declares.

"Sacrifice?" Your father wonders. "What mean you?"

The General swallows and clears his throat. He looks over at your brothers. They shrug.

"Your daughter. She will... She will feed us all." The General says.

You purse your lips. Can these men not tell it straight? They despise the words of women but they cannot be true.

"Feed us?" Your father looks at you.

"The orcs have promised food, ale, stores for the winter. All they require is her." The General explains. "They want more but they will not have it. Not on the condition."

"Speak clearly. I don't understand what they would need of my daughter." Your father demands.

"Why? What any might have of her. If they can make a mother of their new bride, they may have more in exchange for their crops. Food. Our lives." The General slaps your father's shoulder. "It is a fool's dream. Orc and man."

"My daughter?" You father frowns.

"You've two more," the General remarks. "Would you rather three starved to dust or two fed in good health?"

You father scowls. He looks at you. His eyes are sharp with derision. "You shame me."

"Father, it was not--"

"You speak out of turn. It only brings trouble when women wag their tongues," he shoves you away from him. "Farewell. May the road ahead bring you joy... So much as it can."

"Father..." You try to follow but he doesn't stop. You falter after a few steps.

"Eh, yeah, who wants an orc's whore as their daughter?" Ralf asks.

"Or their sister?" Frin snickers.

They cackle and leave you. You look around. Others or cheerful as they are promised food. You wonder if they know at whose expense.

You head for the tent where your sisters and mother's are in wait. Within, Castina is between them shivering. Medra rubs her shoulders as your mother blows into her hands. You forget the cold for the dread in your chest.

"What of the orcs? Do they attack?" Your mother asks.

You shake your head. Castina stares at you. Medra rocks.

"They will feed us." You say.

"Blessed," your mother touches the medallion around her neck. "I begged the gods. Oh how I begged all night."

You sniff. "But I must go."

"Go? Where?" She asks.

You swallow. Your throat is painfully dry. You aren't even hungry anymore.

"With them. The beasts." You answer.

"Why? For what reason?" Your mother howls.

"The General promised it. So the village can eat." You utter dully, your eyes hovering above them. You cannot look at them. You can't stand to see what you will lose.

"N-n-no. They can't do that." Castina shivers.

"They can do whatever they like. Whatever is takes to save the village." You murmur.

"You're a part of the village!" Castina exclaims only to devolve into a fit of coughs.

"Mother?" Medra whines.

Your mother's face is drawn. Her throat visibly tightens. She stands stiffly.

"I must speak with your father," she says.

"You may. He won't speak with me," you say.

"Sister," Castina tries to stand and falls back against Medra. "Ple-e-ease-" 

You hurry forward and grasp her shoulders lightly. You hush her as you get down to your knees.

"Cas, please. This... This will feed you. Food will help you get well." Your voice cracks and your lip quivers. "And I don't have a choice."

"But you should," she says weakly.

You grab the top of your cloak and pull it closer to her neck. "A lot has happened that shouldn't. You are going to keep my cloak and you're going to eat and get warm and get better."

"I'll be alone." She rasps.

"And what am I? Rotten turnip?" Medra snips.

"I need both my sisters," Castina insists.

You try to smile. You can't. Your cheeks twitch and their eyes fill with tears.

"Please don't cry lest I should. I can't... Can't face them as such, can I?" You sniff.

"Aren't you afraid?" Medra asks.

Your throat locks up and you nod. You take their hands and squeeze. They squeeze back.

"Very," you whisper.

🌕

As you emerge, you look around at the villagers. They sit at campfires, gnawing on bones, tearing into the skins of baked potatoes. The air is buzzing with glee. The relief and revelry of the newly-fed starving thrums beneath the open moonlight.

You have no more goodbyes to say. Not any more that you can hear. You sat and made sure your sisters are. That's is enough.

The cold nips at your cheek as you walk between the spits and the bedrolls. The General is with several soldiers, helms and shields set around them. The are deep in casks of ale.

He notices you and belches. He does not attempt to recall his manners. You stare at him.

You rub the bandage across your palm. The tinge of pain beneath lessens that in your heart. The General whistles and signals.

"Plemond. Take her." The General bids.

You watch the General. He gulps more ale. It dribbles down his chin.

"That it? No well wishes?"

"Eh, good fortune to you, lady. So good as it can be," he chortles. "Pray the gods you keep on one piece."

You look at him. His eyes meet yours. His grin fades. He doesn't apologise. He doesn't have that sort of courage.

You turn and follow the plump Plemond. The one you heard them teasing days ago, saying how he could feed at least a dozen. You wonder if this fate is truly worse than staying with such callous folk.

Another night gale sweeps around you. Your bones ache with it. You mourn your cloak but Castina needs it more. 

You pass beneath the shadows of the mountains as the torchlight flickers further and further behind. Plemond keeps a hand on his pommel. He slows.

"Lady, I'm not certain--"

"We told the steel faced one we wished to depart before the dusk." A voice rumbles from the dark.  "For a moment," the towering creature drawls, "we doubted the word of man, as often we've been warned to do."

Plemond backs up, nearly colliding with you. "Sh-she's here."

"We do see." The darker haired orc steps into the moonlight. "More than you know."

His eyes find you and he extends his large hand. "Come. It is too late to go now. We require rest for an early trek."

You hesitate and look at Plemond but he is already running back to the camp. You twist back to face fate. It is more terrifying in the flesh than in your mind.

You reach out, shaking, and take two of his thick fingers. You can't still the tremour. It is much more than the cold.

He turns and leads you into the shadows. The dark grows dense and he tugs you.

"Stay close. I see what your eyes do not," he girds.

You can't speak so you just obey.

"You recall my name, dearling?" He asks.

You sniff. Your nose hurts from the chill. "B... Bull...forgive me, I forget."

"Bucky," he provide. "We will know each other better in time."

You realise you're in a cave only as orange flickers ahead of you. The blaze pulses against the stone wall as Bucky leads you around a corner. A fire burns as the other orc sits before it. He glances over as he sets aside a shield.

"Here," Bucky declares then herds you forward. "And Steve, the other." 

"Bucky. Steve." You eke out.

Steve looks at you. His face is sober, shadows trapped in the creases as the fire lights his features. His lower jaw is square and wide.

"She is cold," Steve says plainly.

"A fur," Bucky gestures as you let go of his hand. You hug yourself as the other orc rises and goes to his pack.

"I... Sirs, I will be warm closer to the fire." You suggest.

"You have no cloak. You will not last upon the road if you have only a tattered dress." Bucky chides.

You looks down. "It is... Yes. It is old. It can be patched."

Steve unfurls a black fur and brings it to you. Bucky helps him fan it around you and they lay it snug around your shoulders. You thank them meekly.

"Come then. Warm yourself." Steve says.

Bucky urges you to the flame. You hold out your palms as your teeth chatter. The fur is thick and heavy. You grab the edges and feel how soft it is.

"What about you?" You ask.

Steve snorts and Bucky laughs. "You worry for us already? As any wife should."

"We don't worry for the cold." Steve intones as he sits again. "Not for ourselves."

You look at the flames until your eyes hurt. Wife...

"A ceremony is needed. That is where we go next. A temple to the northwest." Steve explains.

"Ceremony..." You echo.

"Yes, even orcs take vows."

"Very seriously so," Steve affirms and examines his thumbnail. "Almost as serious as sleep, eh? We should rest for the road."

"Soon," Bucky says as he sits. "Let us settle in. Be used to each other for a while."

You stay as you are. You fear if you move, it my stir them. You just want to stay by the fire and safe.

A low growl rolls through the cave. Your insides ripple. Steve raises his head as his eyes dart around. Bucky looks at you.

"It is only her," Bucky states. "Hungry."

"We fed them..." Steve says.

"We can spare more." Bucky drags his pack closer. "Come, dearling, I hid some currant bread from this rodent."

"Rodent?" Steve huffs. "I am the rat and you steal sweet bread."

"I am no thief. I merely did not share the secret," Bucky unwraps the cloth from around the full loaf. "Come, come."

He directs you closer with his fingers. You near and your mouth waters as you can smell the sweet spices of the bread. He tears off a morsel and offers it.

You snatch it without thinking. Your stomach roars again and you bite into the pillowy bread. You moan at the taste of it. Before you know it, your handful is all gone.

You look at your fingers then above them. Bucky watches and offers more. You cover your mouth, brushing away crumbs.

"No, no," you say. "I could not."

"You are starving. Have it all if you will." He pushes the loaf closer. Your stomach mulches.

"Just..." Your mouth fills with saliva. "Just a little more," you relent. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, I've told you my name. You will use it." He commands.

"Yes, Bucky," you murmur.

"Good," he gives you more bread. "Sit and eat."

You do as he says. You sit on your knees and nibble the bread, this time measuring each bite. It's so tasty. Much better than that slug you ate that morning.

He counts to calm the racing of his heart, listening to the quiet. It is broken only by the slow, steady sound of your breathing and before he knows it, Bucky is counting along to the softness of your breath. One, two. In, out. The sound is comforting. His eyes adjust until he can see the shape of you in the dark, your chest rising and falling with the sound of your breath. In. Out. In. Out. 

This is a good place. A safe place.

 That is what you had told him as you’d doused the embers, plunging both of you into the heavy dark. Bucky tries to believe you—but he cannot sleep deep enough for dreams when each breath reeks of zhut. The stale air is heavy with the scent of enemies and danger, but your rest remains undisturbed. In. Out. You are either brave or foolish, Bucky cannot decide which. He knows too well the weight of honor and duty, the oath you’ve sworn to your mother—to your people. 

If you even have people anymore. 

The pass was lost when Tarrath was a young place, a new place—the people of the great city scattered to the zikaegina. He is surprised there is enough of the old blood in you for magic of any kind, diluted as it must be. He breathes again, a soft growl growing in his throat at the scent of the other. He flexes his arm and there is a sharp and terrible ache beneath the bindings. Bucky grits his teeth, hissing. 

“Bucky?” You mumble his name. There is a rustling sound as you sit up he watches as a spark ignites in the dark, yellow flames dancing at the tip of your finger. You blink tiredly at him, eyes lidded and heavy. “Is something wrong?” 

“Zhut.” He bites out. “How you can sleep with that stench in your nose is beyond me.” He doesn’t want to tell you that the pain of his wound is what had dragged him from sleep. Your tired smile is apologetic.

“They must be close. Perhaps we should move in the morning.” You glance nervously up at the ceiling, as if you too could sense the beasts lurking in the darkness beyond. “They are not as… active during the day.” Your little pink tongue darts out to wet your lips, and Bucky finds his eye drawn to the movement. He watches your mouth make the shapes of words without hearing them. 

Why does he care that they look soft? 

Why does he want to run his thumb across them? 

And then his tongue?

“Yes.” He says, clearing his throat. “I think that would be wise.” 

—

His sword is on the left now. 

It had been on the right, to balance the weight of his daggers and axe, but now it sits on his left hip along with everything else. He feels unbalanced with all his weapons stacked to ease the draw for his good hand, and he wonders if he will ever get used to it. His stump aches as if in response. 

“Come, Orc,” you say, gesturing to him to come near. “We should change your bandages before we go.” When he does not move, you come to stand before him, hands on the curves of your hips. You’re so small, smaller even than Steve’s female, but somehow you don’t even flinch when he bares his teeth at you.

“I will heal soon enough.” He bites out. “I need no tending.” 

“The linens need changing.” You repeat stubbornly, crossing your arms. You glare up at him fearlessly, your little mouth turned into a distinct frown. “If your wound became infected, who would keep your oath me?” You ask, cocking your head. He growls. 

Humans are so troublesome.

“Fine.” Bucky snaps. “But hurry, we are wasting precious daylight.” At this, you huff out a sigh. 

“At least sit down so I can reach.” Bucky finds himself perched awkwardly on a piece of a collapsed column while you unwind the bandages from around his ruined arm. He is expecting torn flesh, jagged and broken bone jutting from the place the zhut’s jaws had been. But when you finish unwrapping, his arm is… clean. Healing. Pink, achingly new flesh hugs the muscle. The zhut had bitten him above the wrist, but less than an inch remains below his elbow. 

“I had to cut further back.” You speak softly, like you know what he’s looking at.“The bone was broken and I didn’t want you to lose the arm…” The words trail off into silence. Your hands are soft, fluttering over his body like butterfly wings. His skin is thicker than yours—it’s why the humans call them pigskin—but you take care with him, rubbing salve gently into the delicate, new skin covering most of his wound. 

Bucky is not… used to soft things. Not used to people treating him, as if… as if he matters. He shudders, and not from the sensation of pricking pins as you massage what is left of his arm with purposeful strokes of your hands. There is a pleasant tingle where you have applied the salve, and without warning, Bucky lifts the limb to his nose, sniffing it. 

“I’m not finished!” You squawk, almost as indignantly as your bird. It smells strongly of herbs, tinged faintly with ozone he knows means magic. If he concentrates, Bucky can scent it on everything you touch. He catches your hand in his, lifting it to his nose.

“You smell of magic.” Bucky replies, running his nose along your wrist. Your breath catches, and your scent goes sharp in ways that make him grit his teeth. He gestures to the little oilskin pouch containing the poultice. “This smells of magic.” 

“I can’t help that,” you say breathlessly. This is the closest he has been to you while awake, he realizes. “It is in my blood.” Your pulse flutters beneath his thumb. “It helps. With healing.”

“I said no magic.” He bares his teeth. You do not cower at the sight of his displeasure, you do not even flinch. 

“It isn’t magic. No great spell was spoken here, no rite taken by fire or otherwise. I should think a great warrior like yourself has endured more than three drops of my blood.” He looks again at the new skin, still thin and raw. Whatever spells you are capable of weaving, you are no danger to him.

“Continue, Little Bird.” Your smile is a small, fragile thing. Your scent fills his nostrils, far preferable to the stink of zhut that colors every breath. Like herbs and water—rosemary and rain. Your little hands are soft and sure, winding the bandages around his arm. Cool, comfortable numbness spreads from where you’ve rubbed the mixture into his skin, enough to dull the throbbing pain. Your little hands are soft and sure as you finish tying it off, patting your work with an even brighter smile. 

“There.” You wipe the excess from your hands on a cloth and toss it into the embers. “Now, we are ready.” You shoulder your pack, lashing it to your back, before grabbing a spear that Bucky knows has seen better days. Ikarus calls out nervously from his perch on a piece of rock, and you turn to him, patting your shoulder. 

“It will be alright, my friend.” You glance at Bucky. “We are not alone. We have him.” You point confidently at him, and something close to pride swells in his chest. 

I will keep my word. I will protect her. 

That October the various frats and sororities were hosting a Fall Festival, a nice distraction from the stress of midterm exams. There would be cider, pumpkin carving contests, hay rides and, of course, a corn maze. The corn maze promised to be extra difficult with stalks so tall even orcs wouldn't be able to look over the top!

As much as crowded events weren't your thing, you wanted to make sure to go and support your friends. Steve's been so much happier since he joined the frat but he's also made sure to still make time for you. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that you were both just friends, you might develop a crush on the "scrawny" orc. The way he's always there for you, the way his light green skin turns dark when he blushes, the way he empathizes with your body issues despite coming from very different perspectives. It could really get you feeling things.

Doesn't help that, as soon as he spotted you, Steve rushed over to give you his jacket. "It's super chilly tonight," he explains. "You're going to catch a cold."

"And what about you?" you counter. "Won't you get sick from the cold?"

"Nah, I'll be busy working the festival, gonna definitely be sweating."

"Aww, you're leaving me all by my lonesome?"

Steve smirks, "I can always find you in a corn maze. I know that's where you'll probably end up."

"I do like a challenge. And being away from the crowds."

"All the more reason to keep wearing my jacket. I'll be able to track you when you get lost."

"Love the vote of confidence," you playfully scoff. Both of you turn to Bucky who's calling for Steve to help out with something. "Go on, big guy. I'll grab some cider and get to figuring out this 'impossible' maze before you notice I'm gone."

Steve laughs and heads towards Bucky leaving you to wander the maze.

You've been in the maze for quite some time now. It is really well done, so easy to get lost and, though you don't have proof, you swear they purposefully had various dead ends decorated exactly the same just to make you think you've been wandering in circles. At the very least, the low light is allowing you a lovely view of the stars. You've probably spent more time looking up than around.

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone shouting your name. There's urgency in the voice but they can't mean you, right? They shout your name a few more times and you recognize Bucky's voice.

"Bucky?!" you shout out. "Bucky, where are you? What's wrong?"

"Stay there, we're coming to you!"

Your blood freezes. Is Steve okay? Did something go wrong with the festival? Do you need to rush him to the hospital?

Bucky comes around the corner with Steve under his arm. Steve's got his hands covering his face, pressed so tight you're worried about him hurting his hands against his tusks.

"What's going on?" you whine.

"One of the sororities thought it would be fun to slip some love potion into one of the batches of cider," Bucky explains. "Steve took one gulp from the keg and cried fowl, saying it didn't taste right. One of the warlocks in our group did a check and identified it."

"As soon as he did, I covered up my face as best I could," Steve muffles from behind his hands.

"The stipulation of the potion is that he look at someone of the opposite gender and all he'll feel is the impulse to mate unless he's already in love with that person," Bucky clarifies.

"Steve?" you quaver. "Steve do you...do you think...or are you just...is it that, if you're going to fuck someone it's going to be someone you can trust?"

"I know I love you," Steve confesses. "Bucky wanted me to wait for your permission to test that."

Bucky nods in confirmation. "Love and magic are tricky, especially when intermingled. Gotta be careful."

"Makes sense," you admit. Taking a deep breath you tell Steve to lower his hands.

As soon as he does, he smiles at you. "Told you so."

"You really love me?" you beam back at him.

"I do."

"Good, because I love you, too."

"Okay, that's sweet and all," Bucky interjects, "but we gotta get back to the front so we can confirm no one was hurt tonight."

"Can I hold your hand?" Steve asks, skin turning so dark it's almost black.

"I'm already wearing your jacket, I don't think holding your hand is going to be too much."

"Thank you," he says shyly with a kiss to the back of your hand.