#orcxreader

You reach back for your bow but realize it flew from you when you were lifted into the trap.

You stopped and sat still as you realized that whatever was coming through the forest was about to be right in front of you.

You kept searching the darkness for anything, what you didn't expect to see was an orc.

Let alone such a handsome one, his tusks poked out from his bottom lip and his dark brown hair was braided messily like it was braided earlier in the morning. You were able to see more of his features as he came to stand closer.

You were small in the large net, and the net came down to around his shoulders so you were almost eye to eye. You heard a low rumble com from deep in his chest, it sounded as if he was confused.

Suddenly he started pulling and poking at the trap, causing you to shake slightly. A few startled gasps left your mouth as you wondered what he was doing, fear still bubbled in your stomach but it was lessened by the seemingly friendly interaction you had.

You felt the net give and you started to fall through the air before the orc caught the net and slowly lowered you to the ground as gently as he could.

You laid there tangled in the net trying to get yourself free when you felt him crouch to the ground in front of you, when you looked at him you noticed it was as if he was trying to appear smaller.

You studied his features more closely a moment, forgetting your fear and instincts to run you focused on his sharp handsome features and deep brown eyes that almost looked black in the night. 

You were so focused on him that you almost missed when he sniffed the air and turned his head.

Your brow furrowed, curious as to what he was doing and why he hadn't hurt you. 

Suddenly you heard soft uncertain sounds come from him, and then a word.

"Hurt?" 

He sounded as though he had never spoken it before, and you could tell he didn't know much English and didn't talk much.

You shook your head slowly but softly side to side; you watched as he slowly approached you with a large knife, which looked small in his hand.

He carefully cut the parts of the net that were knotted around your body, one knot he reaches for is closer to your side and you flinched slightly at the sight of the knife and his large hands coming towards you.

You were told to always be cautious, and you so desperately wished he was as kind as he seemed to be but you could not trust him.

The moment you flinched he caught it, although it wasn't a drastic movement from you but it made him freeze and stop what he was doing. 

You spoke slowly and quietly to him, "Thank you." 

You noticed that when you spoke he watched your lips, seemingly unintentional. You relaxed your body a little, you had some trust in him now. You nodded softly, trying to tell him that you were okay with him continuing.

He didn't touch you unless it was absolutely necessary, and when he did it was hesitant with an open palm.

You were pretty weak from your deep hunger and shaken up from all of the events of the day and night.

He knew something was wrong, but was unsure of what to do.

So he helped the way he knew how, he lifted you up easily and carried you through the forest towards his tent without a word. One arm slides beneath your knees, while the other braces your back drawing you close against his chest.

You were further startled by how quickly he had lifted you into his large warm arms. You had expected at least some clumsiness, but there wasn't any. 

His hold is secure and warm, as your head rests just beneath his chin you feel the warmth radiating off of his muscular chest.

You can smell his warm musky scent more now, like Earth and pine with something like cleaning herbs beneath it all.

Once you had been walking for a few minutes you felt more weary than before and tensed in his hold, his grip around you tightened only enough to keep you steady.

"Shh…" he rumbled low, the sound more of a vibration than a word, spreading from his chest to your body.

He moved through the trees with a quiet confidence, branches that would have snagged you earlier were now bending aside for him. 

His pace was careful too, adjusting when you flinched and slowing down when your breath stuttered.

You could see a low warm light from the direction you were heading, fear still swirled inside of you at the thought of what this orc might want from you.

Your thoughts are broken by a soft low sound, you realize that he's humming.

It's so low you almost didn't catch it and it was uneven, so it wasn't a song but it vibrated through his chest into yours. 

He didn't look at you while he walked, only forward staying alert, almost protective.

His pace slowed before you saw it, the forest thinned and the trees parted to a small clearing where smoke curled faintly in the air.

Tucked beneath the shelter of a massive oak tree was his home, simple and sturdy.

A tent of thick hides and woven bark, reinforced with branches and bones.

Nothing decorative, and nothing wasted.

As he stepped inside he ducked his head, careful not to jostle you in his arms. The space is dim and warm, lit by a fire set in the ground.

Furs were layered across the ground in deliberate order, clean and well-kept.

This isn't the den of a beastly orc, this is the home for someone who knows how to live alone.

He lowered you slowly only the soft warm furs, as if you were fragile.

His hands lingered a moment longer than necessary, hovering, uncertain. 

When you don't pull away, he lets out a quiet huff as if relieved.

"Stay." he said gently but firm towards you.

He moved away, but within reach. He poked at the fire and fed it with a small piece of wood, then he turned to face you with a water skin.

He offered it to you with both hands, you noticed that he seemed apologetic and your breathing steadied.

There is only one bedroll, no extra weapons, no clutter. 

One bowl. One cup. One blade.

He catches you looking around his space, a flicker of something passes over his face.

"Clan…" he starts, the word thick on his tongue. He gestured towards somewhere further into the forest, then he tapped his chest and shook his head once.

"Korr here." he says, there isn't loneliness in his voice. It's a choice.

He knelt near you, so close that your knees almost touch.

He watches you the way he did before, quiet and attentive, listening for sounds of pain watching your hands and reading what he can from you.

"Korr.." you say softly, repeating his name in the same orcish pronunciation that he had.

His face changes into something soft, the firelight reflecting in his brown eyes. Then you see how tense his shoulders are, his expression soft but its like he's bracing for a hit that never comes. His gaze lingers on your face, your eyes, searching.

His gaze isn't hurried, or invasive, but careful. Like he's trying to understand something without having the words.

He glances towards your ankle again, brow furrowing slightly, then he lifts his hand to tap his chest.

"Korr," he says, his voice steady, practiced. Something solid to hold onto.

You nod gently, slowly, with a warm understanding smile. His breath catches, barely noticeable, and his jaw tightens as he looks away a moment, then back at you.

Before you can speak, your stomach betrays you.

The sound was quiet, but in the stillness of the tent filled only with the crackling of fire, it might as well have been thunder.

Korr's eyes snap to you instantly.

He blinks once, then his brown knit in concern.

He moves instantly, in a smooth motion reaching for food set near the fire. He brings it to you carefully, holding it out with both hands as if it's important you have it. The meat is still warm from being by the fire.

"Eat," he says gruffly, there is no arguing with him.

He watches you closely as you do, when he wasn't looking at you directly it was stolen glances while he pretended to do other things.

The tension in his shoulders eases with every bite you take, only when you have finished and your eye lids flutter as you slowly lay down does he carefully drape a large fur around your shoulders.

It's over sized, heavy, and unmistakably his.

"Sleep." he murmured, a soft grunt.

The morning came slowly, you awake to warmth.

The firelight flickering low, the heavy furs still tucked carefully around you. Your ankle throbs dully when you shift, swollen beneath a wrap he must have fashioned for you sometime in the night when you showed discomfort.

He's awake already. 

You feel his eyes on you as he's crouched near the entrance of the tent. His shoulders are relaxed, but alert.

The moment you stir he moves, he notices your discomfort immediately.

"Hurt?" he asks, his voice deep and rough.

You nod softly, and he frowns. Not at you, but at your ankle as if it personally disappointed him.

He approached you slowly, kneeling beside you. His hands are warm as he lifts your foot, he inspects the swelling with a seriousness that is usually reserved for wounds far worse. He presses carefully, watching your face now more than your ankle. 

When you wince, he makes a sharp unhappy sound.

"No walk," he declares. He reaches for more cloth, and tightens the wrap just enough to give support without hurting you. And as if that isn't enough, he pads it with extra fur.

Satisfied, he pats it once more. Gentle and proud.

"Good." He says warmly but gruff. Then he gestures toward the entrance, and then to you.

"Stay. Back soon." You don't have time to argue, before he's gone. Slipping into the forest with quiet, powerful strides.

The tent feels different without him, it's larger and quieter. You take your time, careful as you shift in the furs letting your gaze wander.

Everything is simple, and has purpose.

He only had a few things on a table nearby, a blade meticulously cleaned, a bundle of dried herbs, a carved token you didn't recognize which was worn smooth by handling.

Near the edge of the tent flap, sunlight spilled in, illuminating a small patch of growing plants. Flower and herbs in soft colors and gentle scents, cultivated carefully.

He tends to them, and the thought warms you.

You ease yourself outside, leaning heavily on a branch for balance.

The air outside is cool, and fresh. You gather a few fallen blooms, some fragrant herbs, choosing only what's already loosened or plentiful.

Once back inside, you work slowly as your fingers weave the stems together in the way you remember from childhood. 

It isn't perfect, it doesn't need to be.

You heard him before you saw him, his footsteps were heavier now as if he was carrying more weight.

His body freezes when he sees you outside in the furs, you had gone back outside to retrieve a few more herbs, his eyes narrowed with immediate concern.

"Hurt?" he asks again, sharper this time.

"I'm okay," you say softly, offering him a warm smile while holding up what you've made.

He blinks.

You motion for him to come closer to you, and he does.

He is cautious, curious, kneeling so you can reach him without having to stand straight. You lift your hands to gently tuck the flower and herb bundle into his thick hair, weaving it into one of the braids along the side of his face.

He goes completely still, and slowly his ears darken as if his green skin is getting red.

He doesn't move until you're done. Then he touches it, confused and careful.

"Me?" he asks.

When you nod sweetly with a kind smile, he grins. Wide and unguarded, like he's just been given something priceless. 

He straightens immediately, his chest puffing just a little. He smells like smoke and forest, and then he holds out what he brought.

It's meat, wrapped in leaves to keep it clean.

"Eat," he says proudly. Then, softer, almost shy so you wouldn't hear, "Pretty," as he headed into the tent.

You weren't entirely sure if he meant the food, or the gift.

He insisted on cooking the meat himself.

You realize this when he gently takes the meat from your hands, making a small sound of disapproval when you try to help.

He gestured for you to sit, he presses his palm downward like the ground itself should obey him.

"Sit." he says, a stern look on his face as if he is upset that you are standing, and he nods once as if the matter is settled.

He crouches by the fire, his movements practiced. When the fat of the meat hisses into the flames, he jerks back with a startled grunt, then scowls at the fire like it's misbehaving on purpose.

"Hot," he mutters.

You smile at him and his actions.

When it's done, he brings you the best parts of the meat on a flat piece of bark, setting git carefully in your hands. He watches your face intently as you take the first bit, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Good?" he asks.

"It's really good." Your face shining with happiness at the taste of perfectly cooked meat

He beams at you, a wide smile on his face, you can see his tusks even more now.

"Good," he repeats, satisfied. Then after a pause adds, "I good."

You laugh softly, and he tilts his head, confused but pleased by the sound.

He sits across from you, tearing into his own portion with far less restraint. Grease or juice from the meat smears his fingers and jaw, he doesn't notice. However, he does notice when you wince slightly as you shift your ankle.

"No move," he says immediately. "Foot bad."

"Yes, foot bad," you agree, nodding slightly.

He nods vigorously, proud that you understood him. Then he points at himself.

"Me… strong." He says gruffly as he flexes his thick arms.

And it is not subtle, at all.

You snort a small laugh before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows.

"Funny?" he asks.

"A little." You reply with a small soft smile, as your eyes meet his you see the confusion swirl in his brown eyes.

He considers your response, then flexes again harder.

You laugh entirely with your chest.

He grins as your eyes meet again before you turn to your food, but his eyes linger on your face for a few seconds longer.

After you both finish your meal, he gestures around the tent, searching for words that clearly aren't there.

He points at you and then towards outside the tent, "Forest," he says slowly.

"Trap bad." The words are sharp, as he scowls at the memory of you in the trap.

"Yes," you say gently. "Trap bad." 

"Trap…stupid," he adds decisively. 

You blink at him, and then smile. "Yes, very stupid."

He relaxes, his shoulders rolling forward slightly, clearly relieved that you agree.

There's a long pause. He frowns again, looking towards the ground thinking very hard. You can almost hear the effort. 

"Scared?" he asks finally, pointing towards you. His brow is furrowed with concern, and his eyes search your face and body language for answers.

You hesitate, then nod. "I was."

His face falls completely. 

He moves his body closer, so close that his knee brushes yours. He doesn't touch you at first, just angles his body towards you and leans in, solid and warm.

"No scared now," he says firmly. "Me here." He points to his chest again, like before. Then to you.

"My- uh no…" He stopped himself, frustrated, waving his hand as his face scrunched up knowing that wasn't the right word. "Safe."

He nods, decisive, conversation over.

You realize then that this is as much reassurance as he can give. You look towards the fire and take a deep breath. 

It's then that you notice and really realize how close he is to you.

He shifts his body, adjusting and settling slightly closer to you. You glance down towards your knee, and see his pressed firmly into yours. 

He notices where you are looking, and immediately stills.

You wait to see if he will move.

He doesn't.

Instead, he clears his throat and looks anywhere but you, flustered; he's pretending the fire is suddenly very interesting.

You reach outwards to set your bark plate aside, having to stand slightly on your feet you wobble. His hand shoots out instantly, catching your wrist with a startling speed. 

His grip is firm, protective- when he realizes how gently but firm he is holding you he freezes.

You freeze at his sudden warm touch.

Slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal, he loosens his grip but doesn't let go completely.

His thumb brushes your pulse by accident.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, your voice breathless. 

He shakes his head hard.

"No sorry," he says. "Fall." He says, his other hand gesturing between you, your ankle, and the ground.

"I wasn't going to fall."

He considers this a moment, then shakes his head again, an unconvinced look on his face.

"Still," he says gruffly, but there's something else in his voice you haven't heard before.

There's a long pause. Neither of you move.

Eventually, he lets go and immediately moves back to where he was before, his cheeks darkened beneath the green of his skin.

He grabbed a stick and poked the fire a little too aggressively, feeling a little nervous and something new.

You smile to yourself.

You sit back in your spot by the fire, your knees close and touching, you shifted a few times trying to get comfortable.

Without sparing a glance at you, he pulled at the fur on the other side of him to cover you. When you glance up at him, a little surprised, he stiffens.

"...Cold?" he asked. 

His voice wavered with tenderness as he tried his best to remain stoic and focused on the fire, which he now poked at with better effort.

"A little."

He nods once, satisfied, then stares very hard at the opposite wall like he absolutely did not do that on purpose.

You look down and see that the fur is slightly over his leg closest to you, and you adjust it slightly to give him a little more as your fingers brush his arm. 

He definitely noticed.

He swallowed. Loudly. 

You pull your hand back immediately.

"Sorry." You say worried that you have made him uncomfortable, and misread his words and actions.

"No," he blurts out, too fast, his head turning to face you. His eyes lock with yours, as he quietly says, "Fine."

There's another pause, another beat of shared awkwardness as you both look into each other's eyes.

Until, he reaches out.

Hesitant, but deliberate.

He places his large hand beside yours on the fur. Not quiet touching but close enough to feel the warmth they put off.

He glances at you quickly, before looking away.

"...Okay?" he asks, his brow is furrowed with a sense of concern. His kindness made your heart thump hard in your chest.

You nod, "Okay."

He exhaled like a weight was lifted from his chest.

You both sit together, close and warm, saying nothing. Then, as if realizing how close you are, he abruptly gets up.

"Uh- wood," he says, pointing outside, "Need wood."

You raise an eyebrow, "You got wood earlier." There's a slight question in your tone, but you are mostly confused by his words.

He nods vigorously, his gruff voice stammering out, "More wood." As if he didn't hear you, he steps out of the tent.

And he's gone, vanishing into the trees with impressive speed.

To Be Continued…

A/N: The next chapter will have more spice I promise!!

The pressure was immense, a blunt stretching ache which stole your breath. You could feel every ridge of the broad head of his cock as it pressed against your virgin entrance, a promise of being split wide open. Your body was screaming, torn between fear and a desperate, primal need to be filled.

"Thrall," You whimpered, your voice a thin thread of sound. His eyes were locked on yours, watching your every reaction. "Breath, my queen. Just breathe for me." You took a shuddering gasp of air, and with it he pushed forward.

A sharp pain made you cry out, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his sculpted shoulders. He stilled instantly, buried only a inch inside of you. The stretch was already unbelievable, a burning fullness that was entirely new.

"Shhh," he soothed, his voice a rough caress He lowered his head and captured your mouth in a deep, soul-stealing kiss. It was tender, patient, a stark contrast to the invasion below. His tongue explored your mouth, as you moaned into his mouth. You felt your body relax slowly, the pain receding into a dull throb in the background.

"You are so tight," he groaned against your lips. "So perfect and tight around my cock. I can feel your little cunt clutching me, trying to take me." He began to move again, a slow torturous slide deeper. You could feel every inch of him, a thick, relentless pressure stretching you open. He was burying himself inside of you, claiming you with a terrifying, exhilarating precision. Your hips shifted, a tiny involuntary movement, making him growl. The sound vibrated through his chest into yours as he lowered his body and weight onto you, "That's it, take your King. Take my fucking cock." he groaned as with one final deep thrust he was seated to the hilt deep inside of you.

You felt full in a way that you couldn't have imagined, stuffed completely, your body stretched to its limit around his massive girth. You were both still, panting, and joined in the most intimate way possible. The initial pain had melted away, and was now replaced with a throbbing overwhelming sense of fullness. You could feel his heartbeat in your cunt.

"You did it," he murmured against your hair at the top of your forehead, he brushed the hair from your face. "You took all of me, I am so proud of you my good queen." He began to move, a slow rolling rhythm that made you gasp. Each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each thrust back in a shocking pleasure that started to build deep in your core. The slide was easier now, aided by your slickness, a wet filthy sound that emphasized every movement.

He was being so careful, so agonizingly slow, stretching you with each pass, making your body accept him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, a ragged deep moan was torn from his throat. He spoke your name like a prayer, "Fuck, your greedy little cunt is milking my cock."

His control was fraying, you could see it in the tension of his jay, and you could feel it in the tremor that ran through his powerful frame due to how tense his muscles were. His thrusts became less measured, more urgent. The bed began to rock in earnest, the heavy frame pounding a rhythm against the stone floor.

The careful, tender lover was being consumed by the primal beast. His words, once murmured praises, became guttural and raw. "I'm going to fuck you harder now, princess. I need to feel your sweet cunt grip me, and I need to feel so deeply inside of you." He drove into you, and the world dissolved into sensation. His powerful hips pistoned, slamming his cock into your depths with a force that stole your voice. Each impact jolted through you, a relentless pounding pleasure that built and built. Your cries were sharp, punched out of you with every thrust.

He was hitting a place deep inside you that sparked lightning through your veins, a frantic coiling tension that threatened to shatter you.

"Yes! Right there! Thrall!"

"Come on my cock," he demanded, his voice a savage growl. "Scream for me, let me feel your tight cunt come all over me." His command was all it took. The coil snapped, your vision went white as a climax ripped through you, violent and all consuming. You convulsed around him, a series of frantic clenching spasms that had him roaring above you. Your back arched, your body bowing off the bed as a silent scream of pleasure was on your lips as your mind was wiped clean. He didn't stop, it was raw and devastating.

His pace became brutal and animalistic as he drove into your sensitive, shuddering flesh as you came down from the peak. He was chasing his own end, his rhythm became erratic and frenzied. "I'm going to fill you," he snarled, his eyes burning with feral possession. "I'm going to breed this perfect cunt. You're going to take my seed and swell with my child."

The filthy, vulgar words sent another shock of arousal through your spent body. The promise, the risk, the sheer primal act of it had you clenching around him again.

With a final, ground-shaking roar, he slammed into you and held you there. His arms wrapped around your body, moving and holding you onto him. You felt his cock pulse deep within you pressing against your cervix, a hot flooding release that seemed to go on forever. You felt each jet of his thick cum fill you, a claiming from the inside out.

You could feel the wet, hot spill of it, the absolute fullness of him and his cum. He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the furs. Both of you were slick with sweat, his breath hot against your neck as his body was still shuddering with the aftershocks. You could feel his cock still hard and buried inside of you.

~

After a long moment he shifted his weight to his elbows, looking down at you. His gaze was intense, possessive, but softened with something that made your heart clench. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender amidst the carnage of your passion.

"Now," he whispered, his voice raspy and low. "I think it's time that perfect mouth of yours learned its purpose." He sat up from you, his cock leaving your heat. His weight was a comforting warmth, but the emptiness he left behind was a sudden shocking cold. You whimpered at the loss, feeling the hot wet evidence of his possession trickle from your well-used cunt onto the furs beneath you.

Your body felt boneless, utterly spent and trembling from the brutal, beautiful claiming. Thrall shifted beside you, his massive green hand splaying possessively across your lower belly. "Such a good queen," he rumbled, his voice like stones grinding deep underground. "Taking my seed so deep. Your pretty little womb is swimming in it."

His thumb stroked your sensitive skin, and you shuddered as a fresh pulse of wetness escaped you at his filthy words. The thought, the reality of what he had done should have terrified you. Instead, it made your core clench around nothing, aching on him all over again.

He leaned over you, his golden eyes intense. "But I am not finished with you," his gaze dropped to your soft lips. "That sweet mouth owes me a debt."Your heart hammered against your ribs. Before you could form a thought, his hand was behind your head gently guiding you. Not forcing, the difference was everything. He was gently leading, commanding, and your body was all too eager to obey. He pulled you up, positioning you over his lap. The thick musty scent of sex filled the air, and you saw his cock still glistening with your fluids as it hardened before your eyes. It rose like a pillar of jade granite against his stomach.

It was immense, intimidating, the head flushed a deeper green and beading with fresh moisture. The sheer, primal effect of it stole your breath. "Open." he commanded, his voice low and husky. You parted your lips, and he guided himself to you. The broad head nudged against your mouth, and you instinctively flinched at the size, your jaw protesting. "Wider, my queen," he coaxed, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Take me, just like your perfect cunt did."

You opened wider, stretching you lips around the immense crown. The taste of you and him, salty and musky and utterly primal exploded on your tongue. You hesitated for only a second before your own curiosity, your deep seated need to please him, took over. You leaned forward, taking more of him into your mouth.

A guttural groan ripped from his chest, your name being spoken through gritted teeth. "Fuck, yes."

Your mouth was not as accommodating as your cunt. The stretch was different, a strain on your jaw as you worked to take his girth. Your tongue flattened against the throbbing underside of his shaft, exploring the prominent vein that ran its length. The taste was a raw masculine flavor that was all Thrall, and it was somehow intoxicating.

"Your tongue is amazing," he praised, his voice tight with strain. "Worship my cock." You obeyed, swirling your tongue around his head, lapping at the pre-cum that freely leaked from him. Your hands came up, your small fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. You couldn't even close your hand around him, the contrast was so obscene that it sent a new thrill of submission straight to your core.

You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, learning the rhythm he liked from the tiny involuntary thrusts that his hips gave. Your eyes watered, and drool slid down your chin but you didn't care. The sounds you made were muffled, choked gurgles around his length as each one of his fingers came to tighten in your hair.

"You look so fucking pretty like this," he growled. "My delicate princess, on her knees, choking on her king's cock. I am going to fuck this sweet mouth until you forget your own name." He began to move, setting a slow deep rhythm, fucking your face with a controlled power that left you breathless. You relaxed your throat, giving yourself over to him completely. Letting him use you for his pleasure, the feeling was one of ultimate surrender and it was the most arousing thing you had ever experienced. You could feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, your cunt aching and clenching for attention.

He pulled back abruptly, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You gasped for air, your lips swollen and slick.

"Enough," he said, his eyes burning with renewed fire. He gripped your hips, his hands spanning your waist completely. "My turn to watch. Get on top of me, I want to see your beautiful body move. I want to watch you ride my cock."

He lay back against the furs, a mountain of powerful muscle and intent. His cock stood straight up, rigid and demanding. Your pulse thrummed with a mixture of nervousness and raw desire. the position felt...powerful.

You were to be the one moving, controlling the pace. The thought was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

You moved to straddle his hips, your knees sinking into the soft furs on either side of his powerful thighs. You were much smaller than him, you soft body and skin a stark contrast to his hard, green body. You reached between each other, taking his thick shaft in your hand. It throbbed violently at your touch. Guiding him to your entrance, you hesitated, the memory of that first, stretching fullness still vivid.

"Do it," he commanded, his voice a low thrum. "Take my cock, and sit on it. Fucking impale yourself on me."

His vulgar command was the push you needed, and you sank down.

It was a slow, delicious torture. The broad head stretched you open, a familiar, welcome burn. You lowered yourself inch by agonizing inch, your eyes locked with his, watching the fierce pleasure darken his gaze. You could feel every ridge, every vein, as your body was forced to accommodate him all over again. When you were finally seated fully, his entire length buried deep inside of you you gasped as your head fell back. The feeling of being so utterly filled was overwhelming.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Your gaze napped back to his. His hands settled on your hips, his grip firm and guiding.

"Now move," he growled. "Grind your sweet, used cunt on my cock. I want to see you make yourself come."

You began to rock, a tentative and shy movement. But soon, instinct took over and you knew just what to do to please him. You rose up feeling him slide almost all the way out, before sinking back down taking him in deep. A broken moan escaped both of your lips, the angle was different allowing him to reach even deeper parts of you. You set a rhythm, rising and falling, each time you felt him deep inside of you a shock of pleasure hit you that made your toes curl.

His hands tightened on your hips, and he began to meet your movements, thrusting upwards as you came down, driving into you with jarring force.

"Yeah, just like that!" He grunted, panting as he bare his tusks. "Use me for your pleasure, my little queen."

You were losing yourself, your shyness burned away by the all-consuming need coiling in your belly. Your breasts bounced with the force of your hips meeting, your hips moving with a primal rhythm you didn't know you had in you.

You could feel the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting.

"Touch yourself," he demanded, his voice ragged. "Play with your pretty clit, I want to watch you make yourself come all over my cock."

One of your hands left his chest and slipped between your sweat slicked bodies. Your fingers found your clit, you cried out at the contact, the sensation almost too much. You circled your sensitive nub, your movements grew more frantic as you rode him.

"I can feel you squeezing me," he snarled, his thrusts becoming punishing. You felt yourself begin to unravel and convulse. "Is that it y/n? Are you going to come for me?" You were right on the edge, your entire world narrowing to the place where you were joined together. His words, his filthy praise pushed you over.

"Thrall! I'm... I'm coming!" You screamed, your body seizing as an intense orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt clamped down on him in violent, rhythmic pulses, milking his length as wave after wave of pure ecstasy shattered your mind.

He roared beneath you, his own control snapping. His hips pistoned upward, burying himself to the hilt as another climax took him. You felt the hot, familiar flood of his release. Another thick pulse deep inside your womb, mixing with the first. He held you down, grinding you against him, ensuring every last drop was spent where it belonged.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, completely exhausted, your body trembling uncontrollably. His arms came around you, holding you tightly against him. His cock remained buried inside of you, a constant possessive presence.

After a long moment, his hand stroked your damp hair. "Again," he whispered, his voice thick with desire and promise.

~ 2,602 words