WhisperWillow

The careful way his belongings are arranged, the signs of routine, and someone who lives alone but is organized. You pick up one of the flowers you had given to him, turning it between your fingers. Your thoughts flickered to his braided hair adorned with pretty, dainty flowers he has been rebraiding them into his hair.

Your smile fades, just a little. The tent feels bigger, emptier, without him. Not cold, not unsafe.

Just... quieter.

You're mid-thought when you hear footsteps, heavy and familiar. You look up just as the tent flap lifts and Korr ducks inside, his arms full of wood he absolutely did not need. A few pieces slip from his grasp and clatter softly to the ground.

He freezes, his eyes go straight to you. You're still wrapped in his fur, still warm, still there. Relief loosens something in his shoulders. He sets the wood down carefully, avoiding your gaze, then crouches to feed a piece into the fire anyway. It flares briefly, brightening the tent. "...Cold?" he asks, glancing up at you. You shake your head, "No I'm warm." You say as you clutch the furs closer to you.

He nods, as if that's exactly the answer he was hoping for. He doesn't sit as close as before this time, but he doesn't move far either, settling near the entrance. Close enough that his presence fills the space again.

The fire crackles, and the forest breathes.

And though neither of you mentions the moment he seemed to flee from, it lingers quietly between you, unresolved and waiting.

A week passes.

Mornings come with the sound of birds and smoke curling from the fire, while the evenings end with the two of you seated close. Sharing warmth and silence like it's something that belongs to you now.

Your ankle healed quickly, you tested your weight and it felt fine so it must be healed. Korr still watches you walk like he doesn't believe you, hovering close by.

You had started cooking for him without being asked. Things that you had learned to make when you lived on your own, when survival meant creativity. Roots softened into stews, herbs crushed and simmered, meat more tender and richer than anything that had cooked over his fire.

The first time you handed him a bowl, he blinked at it. "You...", he motioned towards the kitchen area and pointed at the bowl, a confused question coming from deep in his chest. "For us," you say gently. He eats slowly, like he's afraid it will disappear if he isn't careful.

When he finishes, he glances towards you, then away. Clearly overwhelmed. "Good." he says again, like it's the highest praise he knows, a deep rumble that vibrates in the air.

Over the next few days, you find that he lingers more often. He sits closer to you during meals, stands near you, and is always just shy of touching you.

Until he isn't.

During breakfast one morning, you feel his knee press against yours. You try not to focus on the way it makes your heart jump in your chest, and you lean forward to stir the stew in the pot.

His hand softly comes up to steady you.

You can sense his body tense as he suddenly realizes what he has done. But he never pulls his hand away.

You feel him at night, as he drapes a second fur over you that feels heavy and warm. You feel him adjust it, careful and quiet. You never mention it to him, you don't need to.

One quiet evening, when the fire is low and the forest is calm, he sits closer to you than usual. It's when you reach for something next to him at the same time that he reaches for you that your hands collide.

Neither of you moves.

He looks down towards your fingers, then up to your face. His shoulders are tense, and you can see in his eyes that he's fighting something inside himself. "Okay?" he asks, barely above a murmur. You nod softly.

That's all the permission he needs, but yet he still hesitates, he leans in slowly like he's afraid to scare you.

So you close the distance.

His lips are soft, and so is the kiss.

Soft and careful.

He makes a quiet sound of surprise before kissing you back, he's unsure but earnest. His hand lifts to your shoulder like it's the only anchor he has.

The warmth that spread through you like a wildfire was like something you had never felt before. The spark between you both had lit like a match, and burning hotter than the fire in his tent.

He pulled away too soon, his eyes wide and his chest rising and falling fast. You look up at him, your eyes meet and you can see that he is as much in a daze as you are. Your fingers touch your lips, remembering how his tusks felt, his warm lips. He searches your face, anxious. "Good?" he asks you again, his voice quiet but still a rumble that you feel through the tension. You smile at him, your heart racing. "Yeah"

Your voice is just barely heard above the fire crackling, but it fills him with relief.

He nods again, just once as his eyes never leave you. Like he's committing the moment to memory. He smiled softly to you, as if he did not realize he was doing it. You watched his lips curl up, and his tusks were fully exposed for the first time since you had met him.

You both sat beside each other again, there was no space between you as you tried to focus on the heat of the fire, not the heat of his body so close to yours.

His leg was once again against your own, but he was much warmer now than before. He reached out, so slowly, and touched a strand of hair that had fallen over your ear. He rubbed it between his large thumb and forefinger, his expression one of wonder. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and you leaned into his touch just slightly.

It was all the invitation he needed.

His palm was rough, from working in the forest, but his touch was light and gentle. He tilted your face up towards his, his eyes searching yours as if to ask a question. You answered by parting your lips, a soft sigh escaping without realizing. But before you could think, he closed the distance.

The touch of his lips again was something you were craving since the first whisper of a kiss, and his lips and touch were mesmerizing. His other hand came up, cradling your other cheek, holding your face as if you were spun glass.

The kiss became firmer as you melted into his hands, your own moving to rest on his thick, muscular forearms. The muscle there felt like iron beneath your fingertips. His mouth moved over yours, learning its shape. You opened for him, as his tongue met yours, a low groan vibrated from his chest into yours.

The sound went straight through you, pooling heat between your thighs. He tasted like smoke and wild herbs, and something uniquely him and deeply masculine. You lost yourself in it, forgetting everything that happened before this moment. Focusing on the feel of his tusks, smooth ivory curves brushing gently against your cheeks.

The size of him was surrounding you. One of his hands slid from your face, down the length of your throat, coming to rest on your shoulder. His thumb stroked your collarbone. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as his forehead rested against yours. His eyes shone with want, his pupils swallowing any color.

He looked wrecked and overwhelmed by sensation.

You were lost in his eyes when he made a sound. It was a strained and needy grunt. He nodded towards your body and his own as if asking a question. You understood immediately, your hands, which had been on his arms, slid down. You took one of his large hands in both of yours and guided it to the lacing of your tunic.

His breath stuttered as you tossed the furs from your shoulders. He looked from your eyes to your hands, then back, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice husky. "I want you to."

He understood the permission, even if not the words. With almost painstaking care, his thick fingers began to work the soft laces of your tunic. He fumbled slightly, his hands seemingly too big for the task, but he was determined.

The rough linen loosened, and you felt his large, warm hands peel the fabric softly down your shoulders and over your breasts. Korr went utterly still. Your chest was bare to him. Your skin reflected the warmth of the firelight as the light flickered against you.

The intensity of his gaze and the cool air drew your nipples to peaks. He stared, his mouth open slightly. He breathed out a shaky, reverent sigh that was more a feeling than a sound. He didn't grab, just simply looked. His eyes traced every curve, every shadow.

Then, slowly, he raised his hand. He hovered his palm over your breast, the heat radiating from his skin making you shiver. His eyes locked onto yours again, one last check to make sure you want this. Him. You arched your back slightly, pressing your flesh further into his waiting hand.

"Please...Korr," you begged softly.

His touch was unlike anything you had ever felt. His hand engulfed your entire breast, his palm searingly hot and rough against your softness. You could feel the callouses that formed through his hard work, brush against your nipple, sending goosebumps across your skin. He seemed to notice this and made sure to brush over again and again.

A sharp, sweet jolt of pleasure shot through you, making you gasp. He made a low, approving sound and did it again. His touch growing bolder, learning what made you gasp and squirm. He bent his head, his breath hot on your skin.

He nuzzled the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent. Then his mouth closed over your other nipple. Oh, fuck. The wet heat of his mouth, the careful scrape of his tusks, the suction. It was too much and not enough. You cried out, your fingers tangling in the coarse dark hair at the nape of his neck. You could feel him, every inch of him.

Through the rough hide of his loincloth, something pressed against your thigh. The sheer size of it, even hidden, sent a thrill of dizzying fear and want through her. He tasted your skin, his tongue swirling around your breasts, while his hand kneaded the other.

He was a fast learner, finding a rhythm that had your hips shifting against the furs beneath you. At first, it was soft and slow, but as the warmth grew in your belly, your movements became restless. The fabric of your skirt was a rough barrier; you wanted his hands there. You wanted that terrifying, thrilling hardness against you. He pulled away his mouth with a wet pop, his lips glistening.

Your hands stayed in his hair, softly tangled by the nape of his neck. He was panting, his green skin flushed a slightly darker shade. He looked down at you, his expression full of raw need and desire. His hand slid from your breast, down over your ribs, your stomach. He hesitated at the folds of fabric pooled at your waist, his fingers dipping into the fabric and gripping it.

He looked into your eyes, his question clear.

You felt his body tremble with the effort of holding back. The air felt alive, buzzing. Every nerve in your body was screaming yes. His eyes, a dark, warm amber in the firelight, held yours intensely.

The air was thick with the scent of both of your sweat, the smoke, and the musk of your arousal. You couldn't find it in you to speak; your throat was too tight.

Your heart beat against your ribs like a wild drum.

Instead, you moved. You lifted your hips, just a fraction, a clear, unmistakable offering. Your hands, which had been in his hair, slid down to cover his, where they were buried in the gathered fabric at your waist. You pressed his hands down, guiding his fingers to pull.

A shuddered breath came from Korr's chest. He understood. With a slow, deliberate pull, he drew the skirt down your legs. The fabric whispered over your thighs, your knees, and calves. He was careful, so careful, of your injured ankle. Easing the garment off completely and tossing it aside into the shadows. Then he just looked at you.

You lay there, bare before him in the fire's glow.

Only the flickering light and dancing shadows cover you. Your breasts rose and fell with your quick breaths. Korr made a sound, low and guttural as his eyes raked over you. Settling between your thighs. A groan that sounded like it was ripped from the very core of him. He could smell you, a rich, intoxicating scent that made his head swim and his cock throb. He could feel it straining painfully against his loincloth, a violent aching throb.

He stared, his gaze hungry, tracing your silhouette, where your folds lay hidden, and the way your soft flesh seemed to glow. He reached out, his grip firm. He didn't touch you where you desperately wanted him. Not yet. He placed his palm flat on your stomach, feeling the muscles jump under his touch. His hand was nearly too big as it lay on your entire stomach; it spanned from hipbone to hipbone.

He slid his hand lower, through your soft curls, his fingertips just brushing the very top of your slit. You gasped, your back arching off the furs. Your hips lifted, seeking more of his electric, heated contact.

"Korr...yes." His name left your lips breathless and wanting.

Encouraged, he let his fingers explore. He parted your thighs more with his other large hand, his touch impossibly gentle. Your thighs were soft as he pushed them aside to reveal your lips, slick, warm, and needy. At their apex, your clit was a small pearl. He brushed a blunt fingertip over it.

"Ah!" Your cry was sharp, your whole body jolting.

Your legs fell open wider, in a silent, desperate plea. Korr's breath came in ragged pants. He watched, fascinated, as he circled that little nub, learning what made you gasp and whimper. He dipped a finger lower, through the drenching wetness, finding your entrance. It was a hot, tight ring of muscle, clenching around nothing. He pressed the pad of his finger against it, not entering, just feeling the incredible heat and the way it pulsed around the pressure.

He looked up towards your face, your eyes squeezed shut, your lips parted, as an expression of pure need fell onto your features. He needed to see more.

He needed to taste.

With a grunt, he shifted his massive body. He moved down the furs, his hands sliding under your thighs. He lifted your legs, hooking your knees over his broad shoulders. The position opened you to him completely, your ass resting on the furs, with your sex presented to him like a feast. You cried out again, this time in shock and the vulnerability of your position, the sheer exposure. You were spread wide for him, every inch of your pussy on display.

"Korr, wha- oh fuck."

He didn't hesitate. He lowered his head and tasted you. It was a long, slow, flat stroke of his tongue, from the bottom of your slit, over your clenching entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. The sensation was blinding. His tongue was broad, hot, and rough, like warm velvet. It was the perfect, devastating friction. Your hands flew to his head, your fingers clutching at his coarse hair.

A broken sob tore from your throat. He did it again. And again. He licked into you, fucking you with his tongue, lapping up your juices, which tasted like honey and something uniquely you. He groaned against you, the vibration making you shriek. He focused on your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

He was a hunter, and he had found his quarry.

He learned your rhythms, the way your hips jerked when he swirled his tongue, the sharp little cries you made when he applied more pressure.

"Don't stop, please don't stop. Oh gods, right there, fuck", you babbled, your words dissolving into incoherent moans.

The heat was coiling in your belly, tight and urgent. Your thighs trembled against his cheeks, and you could feel the rough stubble along his jaw, a maddening contrast to the soft brush of his hard tusks. Korr felt your muscles fluttering around his tongue, so he sucked harder, licked, and tasted you faster.

One of his huge hands moved up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple in time with the strokes of his tongue. His touch sent shocks through you, and the orgasm that crashed over you came without warning. It was a wave of pure white hot electricity that poured over you.

Your mouth opened without a sound at first, then a raw, ragged scream that surely echoed off the trees outside. Your back arched from the furs. You were too distracted by the orgasm flowing through you to notice how hard you were grasping his hair and how hard your heels were digging into his back.

Wetness spilled over his tongue and chin, but he didn't pull away. He drank you in, licking and soothing you through the final pulses until you collapsed. As if you were boneless, you melted onto the furs beneath you, gasping for air.

He lifted his head, his mouth and chin glistening wetly in the firelight.

He looked utterly devious, his eyes black with lust as he licked his lips. You watched as his long tongue wiped your juices from one of his tusks, savoring your taste. The sight of him, your release all over his face, sent a sharp pang of desire through your still throbbing core. It made you whine. He moved, swiftly crawling up your body.

He loomed over you, his weight braced on his thick, veiny arms. His loincloth did nothing, for the outline of his erection was stark. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of awe and hunger that was somehow far from satiated. He made a gesture towards his hide and to you with a furrowed brow.

Yes. Gods, yes.

But a flicker of fear, cold and rational, cut through the haze of your pleasure. You had felt its outline against your thigh and the sheer bulk of him. You reached down, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with the simple knot at his hip.

After a few moments, he helped, although his own hands were also clumsy with need. Soon enough, the cloth fell away. Your breath stopped. Korr's cock sprang free, and it was...impossible.

It was a thick, heavy member of deep green flesh, rising from a thick oatch of coarse blackish-brown hair. His shaft was ridged with prominent veins, pulsing with his heartbeat. The head was a broad, smooth flare, a darker green, already beading with a clear drop of pre-cum at the slit.

His size was...he was so thick that your two hands together wouldn't be able to fully grasp it. Korr watched your face. He made a soft, concerned sound and took your hand. His hand engulfed your own completely and guided it to himself. His skin was warm like sun-warmed stone, but surprisingly soft.

As you felt your fingers close around him, you couldn't get your fingertips to meet; you realized how heavy and solid he was. A thick vein throbbed under your thumb. You softly placed your other hand on him, wrapping it around his base with a slight squeeze that tore a guttural moan from his throat.

You whispered his name, your voice filled with wonder and terror. He understood your tone and leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss. His hips rocked forward slightly, and an involuntary thrust caused the head of his cock to slide through your grip.

The friction caused him to growl into your mouth.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked from your face to where your hands struggled to hold him, then back to you.

He motioned with his hips, a slow questioning thrust into the air, before pointing to between your legs. His question is clear.

May I? Will you have me?

The fear was there, but it was beneath the ache you felt that you were drowning in. You wanted to feel him, all of him. You nodded softly and felt him lower himself between your legs, your hands still softly grasping around him.

You felt the head of his cock against your entrance, making you gasp as a soft, lewd sound came from between your legs at how wet you were. Still holding him, you guided him closer to your entrance, watching as his face changed. His eyes were dark with lust and want, you could see him fighting himself.

"Slow," you breathed deep, making a slow motion with your hands.

"Slow Korr."

He nodded understanding, his jaw was clenched tight with as much control as he could gather. He braced himself with his arms on either side of your head, his biceps bulging as he began to push forward.

The pressure was intense, and you cried out as your nails dug into his shoulders. It wasn't the pain so much as it was the fullness of him. A sensation so intense it was almost unbearable.

He was so thick, and you were so small. He pushed further, another inch, you felt your muscles strain and then give, accepting him. Your body wept around him, easing him into you.

"Fuck," you practically sobbed, your lip parted wide as your head moved against the furs beneath you.

Korr froze, his body trembling with the strain of holding still. He looked down at you, his eyes full of worry as he made a low questioning grunt.

"No. Don't stop," you panted heavily as you managed to wrap your legs around his thick waist.

"Just...just go slow, please."

He understood the plea in your voice as he dropped his head, kissing your neck and collarbone. He murmured wordless, soothing sounds against your skin as he pushed forward. Another inch, then another.

You could feel every ridge, every vein of him as he sank deeper. Your body was accommodating him, stretching more than you ever thought possible.

That feeling.

Being so utterly filled, so completely possessed, was overwhelming. He pushed away every thought, every fear, until there was only him and the sensation.

The heat of him inside of you, the weight of his body, the scratch of his hair on your thighs, the scent of him. Finally, with the last deep grind of his hips, he was fully seated inside of you.

He was buried to the hilt.

Your belly felt distended, stretched around his massive girth. He lay still for a moment, both of you panting, sweating, and adjusting to the incredible feeling. Korr lifted his head to gaze at you, his expression of pure wonder. He was inside you.

He was inside you.

He flexed his hips, the tiniest movement sending an explosive shockwave through you. It wasn't a thrust, it was a grinding caress that rubbed his entire length against every sensitive spot inside of you.

A broken, ragged moan was torn from your lips. Your muscles clenching around him in a fierce, involuntary spasm. He began to move then, true to his promise, he moved slowly. He drew back, with an agonizing withdrawal that made you whimper at the loss. You felt every inch of his shaft drag against your clenching walls. Then he pushed back in, a steady, deep surge that filled you completely all over again.

Each stroke a deep, claiming possession that was maddening and deliberate. You chanted his name in a hoarse whisper as he found a rhythm. Each deep rolling thrust of his hips drove the breath from your lungs with every stroke.

The tent was filled with the sounds of you both, the wet slap of your skin, your ragged breaths, your high, desperate cries, and his low, continuous growls.

The firelight danced over his sweating back, and over your legs wrapped around him. He shifted slightly, angling his hips, and on the next thrust, the broad head of his cock ground directly against a spot deep inside you that made you see stars. You screamed his name as loud as you could, your back arching violently.

"Please, don't stop!" You yelled.

He didn't. He hammered into that spot deep within you with every deep, measured stroke.

The coil in your belly wound tighter and hotter, the pleasure was building to a terrifying peak with a pressure so intense you thought you might break.

"Korr, I'm...I'm..." you gasped, your words failing.

He seemed to sense it. His thrusts lost some of their perfect control, becoming harder, faster, and more urgent. His growls had turned into ragged pants.

He was close too. He buried his face in your neck, his tusks scraping your skin gently. Your orgasm slammed into you, deeper and more violent than before. Your vision went white as a raw and wordless scream was ripped from your throat.

You felt him swell even larger inside of yoy, and you felt his rhythm stutter. With a roar that seemed to shake the tent and the ground, Korr drove into you one last, final time and erupted. Hot, wet pulses of his release flooded your deepest parts. Jet after jet after jet, he filled the incredible stretch he had created.

The feeling of him pumping into you, so deep and so much, triggered another smaller wave of tightness from you. Milking him for every last drop.

He collapsed onto you, his full, immense weight pressing you into the furs, a warm, sweaty, breathing blanket. You lay there, joined, as the aftershocks slowly subsided, your hearts hammering against each other's chests.

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!!

You can tell the sea water is affecting his vision, the way he furrows his brow slightly, but you look over his face a moment examining him. He doesn’t look hurt, and he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen and infinitely better than any merman below.

You remember a small island that isn’t too far from here, and you push him to the surface and try your best to keep him there as you swim him to shore.

The waves, as if sensing your desperation, carried him the rest of the way up the shallow beach. You laid next to him moving his chestnut brown hair out of his face, you can see him much better now. You can feel his rough stubble, his rough hands…his arm.

His arm was the silver you saw in the ocean, you were intrigued and moved to sit at his other side blocking the sun from his face.

You were holding his metal arm, as if intrigued but also wondering how it works. ‘How does it connect to him?’ You wondered, his sleeve covering his shoulder but not his forearm.

You felt and heard him stir, he coughed and rolled a bit to his side to spit out any water he swallowed when he almost drowned.

That’s when he remembers everything that happened with the plane, and he wondered how he was alive before he opened his eyes and saw your silhouette above him.

He squinted his eyes to see you better, and remembered you from under the water.

He sat up and jumped back, ripping his metal arm from your warm hand. It was only then he realized you were even holding it, so he pulled it closer to him and eyed you curiously. You watched him with warm fascination.

“Who are you?” His gaze moved from your eyes to look over you, once he did he wished he hadn’t.

Your tail wasn’t there anymore, having dried while laying on the beach you now had legs and were completely naked with long hair covering your chest. Despite your naked appearance you were looking at him with warm eyes and a smile, looking at him fondly still with fascination.

He kept his eyes at the sand to respect you.

“How do you pull me to shore alone?” He looked around, “What were you doing out in the middle of the ocean?” He said scoffing out of surprise almost, still remembering you’re a stranger but being curious as to how you were able to carry him through the water to shore.

You couldn’t find the words to speak, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

You had heard English spoken from below water, but had never spoken it from your own mouth before.

You opened your mouth but closed it not knowing what to do. So you just shook your head and held your throat.

“You can’t speak?” Bucky said coming closer now but slowly. He knew you weren’t a threat, but didn’t want to scare you. “But you can understand me?” He said as his brow furrowed trying to figure you out.

You nodded quickly a big warm grin on your face, and you leaned towards him the moment you noticed him moving closer.

He wondered if you knew about all the things he had done. If you knew who he was.

He looked away at the thought, but when he looked back up to your eyes he found that you were already looking at him.

Still with a warm smile on your face, he could sense your fascination below the surface and it warmed him deep inside part of him he didn’t know could be warm.

You looked as though you were studying him, yes scanning over every part of his body. His muscular chest, his big arms with biceps the size of your head. And strong legs, you could tell through his tactical pants.

Maybe you didn’t know who he was.

“What never seen a man before?” He joked softly, trying to be friendly since you were both stranded on the island.

You shook your head in all seriousness, not understanding his sarcasm.

He just laughed at you with a warm laugh, which made your chest heat up and your heart beat.

“I’m Bucky.” He said with a small smile on his face. “I should try to build a shelter before it’s dark.” He said standing up, holding his flesh hand out for you to take.

As you tried to stand you wobbled, you had never gone to the surface before. Your older sisters had told you stories of the few times they had been, but you enjoyed watching from below the water.

One hand was already holding his, but soon your other one found his hand too needing more help getting stable on the soft sand.

“Are you okay? You’re probably tired from swimming and carrying me, sit here and I’ll just stay inside the tree-line.” He reassured you firmly but warmly, you sat back down in the sand.

You nodded, and he walked away towards the trees and plants.

The island was small but deeper in the center it had rocks, a small river of fresh water and dense trees and shrubs.

You played with the shells on the beach, looking out at the sunset on the water. Surely your sisters wouldn’t notice your absence for one night.

Normally you would’ve left and swam home, but Bucky was different. He was warmer than the other men you had watched, he seemed flustered by your naked appearance which made you feel something you couldn’t put your finger on.

Were you intrigued by his differences, or attracted to them? You knew how dangerous it was to fall in love with a human man.

You had heard stories of mermaids who chose to live above the surface, they came back to the sea longing for it but could never come back. They would swim deeper and deeper, praying their legs would disappear before drowning.

Of course these stories were told to you and your sisters by your father, who always used fear to steer you from the surface. So you liked to believe that maybe there were a few mermaids who really did find true love, and that they lived happily ever after with their new life.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Bucky coming back, he had created a makeshift cover with leaves and sticks and started a fire closer to the tree line.

“Hey,” he said his cheeks warm as he look at your eyes or at the sand or sky. “I built us some shelter, and I figured you might need some help walking over.” He held out his flesh hand again to help you walk, but you shook your head and reach for his metal one.

You liked how heavy and cold it felt.

He looked uneasy, and stuttered to speak. He looked towards the ground as he tried to find the words.

You held his flesh hand, making him look up to meet your eyes. You nodded softly, trying to tell him it’s okay.

He smiled softly at you, and you began to try to stand and walk. You almost fell within your first few steps, and you felt his metal arm reach out to hold your side.

You tried to not show how much it affected you, so you tried to focus on walking.

Eventually you made it back to the shelter, the fire was warm. You stayed far away, afraid, since you had never seen it before.

He noticed your fear, and sat next to you to offer safety. “It’s okay, it won’t hurt you from here. See?” He held out his flesh hand in front of himself to show you the distance you have between yourself and the fire.

You ease up slightly, you listen to him speak about random things since you couldn’t ask him question.

Not for a lack of trying, you tried charades or spelling in the sand. But you couldn’t spell everything exactly right, due to the language barrier and not having much practice with writing English.

You only encountered it written when you found books or things that were engraved in the water.

You spent the rest of the night close together but not quite sitting against each other. The night wind carried cold air from the ocean to your small camp.

You shivered slightly as you sat with your legs to your side. You didn’t notice Bucky taking off his red henley before suddenly he was holding it out towards you. Your head snapped up and you saw his chiseled body through his white tank top.

You wanted to focus on the way he looked but instead you pushed the shirt away, your brow furrowing as if to tell him that you didn’t want to make him cold.

“Take my shirt doll, it’ll keep you warm. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been colder.” He said with a heaviness at the end of his words, you wish you could know what he meant and ask him.

You slowly pulled the shirt over you, his shirt was baggy over you and covered the tops of your thighs. He seemed more at ease now that you were covered.

Eventually you both fell asleep, and you woke up a few hours later to see him still sleeping. The fire smoking, you look at his face closely as he sleeps. His brow is furrowed, he must be dreaming about something.

You look out to the ocean, you walk slowly and unsure towards the beach.

You turn to look back at Bucky still asleep, and place his henley just out of reach of the water and walk slowly and quietly into the ocean.

You were now swimming in your mermaid form to find your favorite kind of fish for breakfast for him.

Eventually you break the surface and swim up shore, with four fish in your hand on a stick.

You laid and watched the sun come up as you waited for your legs. Eventually the sun was almost completely over the horizon, your tail had dried and your legs were back. You slipped the henley over your shoulders and you stumbled on your legs over to Bucky.

You tried to copy what he did last night, and start the fire. But you couldn’t manage it, and groaned and threw the stone and stick in the sand.

“Need some help?” Bucky said teasingly, his rough voice caused you to squeak slightly in surprise.

“Didn’t mean to scare you doll, sorry.” He said softly with a shine of something in his eyes. He shifted closer to you, like how you both were sitting the night before. His arms reached out, stone and stick in hand as he started the fire.

He hadn’t seen the fish until you placed them above the fire, he quickly placed a smooth rock underneath them. You looked up at him, wondering why he would stop the fish from being on the fire. It is what you thought you saw people do before on the beaches.

“We don’t want them burning up, the rock with get hot and cook it better.” He said explaining confidently but softly. You nodded understanding, he was quiet in thought a moment before saying.

“How were you able to catch such large fish so early and close to shore?” You stared at him and shrugged, he watched you carefully as you looked for shells in the sand and he cooked the fish.

You both ate quickly, he was starving and although bland he was glad to have something in his stomach.

Soon dusk grew near, and you feared what your sisters might be thinking. But you also didn’t want to leave Bucky, you decided a little bit longer with him wouldn’t hurt anyone.

The second day came and went, and you two had grown much closer in such short time. You weren’t able to talk, but he knew you listened and cared. You felt his kindness in the small things he did, and the way he spoke to you.

You were caught up in him, watching his face and eyes reflect the glow of the fire, so much so you didn’t notice his eyes on you as well.

You felt naked under his eyes, although his shirt covered you completely. You felt a pull to him, more than just your initial curiosity in him. He was so close you could feel his warmth, and something between you both.

You smiled at him and a blush graced your cheeks. He smiled softly in return and his flesh hand moved some hair out of your face.

You held your breath as you leaned in, he met you halfway in a soft deep kiss. The kiss spiraled, and became a slightly sloppy makeout while still being romantic.

You felt your stomach getting warmer, you had never felt this way before and your legs felt like jello because of it.

He broke the kiss to pant heavily, his forehead pressed against yours as you felt his breath fan over your lips. You but your lip and giggled softly.

He leaned back a second just to meet your eyes, “I don’t even know your name.” He said breathless, you had never heard him speak like this before and you liked it.

“Y/n.” You said matter of factly, knowing your sudden speech would surprise him and you played into that with a warm smile of happiness.

He echoed your name on his lips, he breathed out in a chuckle and smiled while saying, “So she speaks.”

You pushed into him for another deep kiss, your lips locked. He was surprised and caught you against him. Your hands found his shoulders and slid up before one of your hands found the nape of his neck, where you gave a playful tug on his hair and he groaned into your mouth.

You kissed and laid against each other for a while before he separated from you, his hands around your waist. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I have so many questions.” He said breathless and curious. You could sense his need for answers for everything that had happened.

Word count: 2,312

So, while he was out in the predawn gloom, you were in the kitchen. The orc cooks had stared, their brutish faces slack with confusion, as the soft human princess requested flour, dried berries, and honey.

You baked, your hands accustomed to needlework clumsily shaped the dense sweet bread whose recipe you found in the same book that you found before. You prepared a small tray of the treats you had made, along with a wineskin of spiced wine.

Thrall returned just past midday, a massive elk carcass hung across his shoulders around his neck. He was splattered with earth, his green skin muddy but gleaming with effort. His expression one of fierce satisfaction. He strode toward the keep, the very picture of primal victory.

You met him in the courtyard, your heart hammering. You held the tray out and up towards him, along with the wineskin.

"For you," You said, your voice smaller than you wished. "For after the hunt."

He stopped dead. His eyes, which had been scanning the horizon snapped down to the offering in your hands. He didn't take it. He just stared, his nostrils flaring slightly. The silence stretched on, and you felt a blush creep up your neck heating your cheeks. Your thoughts filled with worry that you misread or overstepped.

Then, his large, calloused hand came towards you. He didn't take the items. He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with a roughness that made your knees weak.

"You prepared this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You nodded, unable to speak.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "You read? You have learned." His voice laced with surprise and satisfaction, he paused. "You are a good wife."

The words his you like a physical blow, sweet and devastating. The words felt hot as they left his lips, their effect on you noticeable as you lips parted slightly.

He took the tray, his fingers brushing yours, the tray looking like a plate in his large hands. He pulled off a part of the bread, which looked like a large amount to you, and ate it in one bite. His intense gaze never left your face, he chewed slowly and swallowed.

"It is perfect."

The simple praise bloomed hot in your chest. He drained half of the wine skin in a single drink, then handed it back. His hand slid from your cheek to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you into a hard, claiming kiss. It tasted of the forest, of sweat, of him and the spiced wine. It was over too soon.

"We go," he said, his voice thicker now. He mounted the beast and pulled you up in front of him, settling you against his chest. he didn't head for the keep. He turned towards and he urged the beast we rode into the woods at an intense pace.

We rode deeper than you had ever been, following the sound of rushing water. The air grew misty, and the roar grew louder. He halted in a small clearing where a waterfall crashed into a deep, clear pool, surrounded by deep green moss-covered stones and brighter green soft ferns. The sound of the water was a thunder that swallowed the world outside.

He dismounted and lifted you down, his warm and rough large hands moving you gently. His hands didn't leave your waist.

Instead, you felt his rough palms slide under your cloak, under your simple dress, they came to a dominating stop. His grip branding your bare hips, you felt his touch slowly become more dominating and possessive as he explored more of you.

"This place," he finally spoke, his mouth against your temple. His husky deep, rough voice sunk deep into your skin like a warm electric spark. "This is where an orc brings his mate. To show her the wilderness that is his. To claim her in it."

He kissed you then, not with the tender softness of your first, but with a deep, consuming hunger. His tongue plunged into your mouth, and you met it with your own, your arms winding around his neck. He walked you backward until your shoulders met the cool, damp surface of a massive boulder covered in a velvet layer of emerald moss.

His hands were everywhere, tearing at the laces of your dress, pushing the fabric from your shoulders until it pooled at your feet. The cool, misty air pebbled your skin, your nipples tightening into hard, aching points. He made a low, approving sound and palmed your breast. His thumb rubbed tight rough circles over the peak.

"Look at you," he growled, his other hand sliding down your soft belly, through the patch of hair between your thighs.

"My soft wife. Waiting for me in my halls. Baking for me." His finger dipped down, finding your slit, already slick and ready for him. "Your cunt is dripping for me right now, isn't it? This greedy, perfect little hole knows what it's for."

You whimpered, pushing your hips against his hand. "Yes."

"What is it for y/n?" he demanded, pushing one thick finger inside of you, curling it.

You cried out, your head falling back against the moss. "For you! For your cock!"

"For my seed," he corrected, his voice a filthy rasp. He added a second finger, stretching you, his palm grinding against your clit. "For breeding. This sweet pretty cunt was made to take my fucking orc cum and make my children. Isn't that right, my good wife?"

My good wife. The praise, mixed with the degrading, explicit truth of his words unraveled you. Your orgasm crashed over you with shocking speed, your cunt clenching around fingers as you shook against the rock, a silent scream on your lips.

He didn't let you recover. he yanked his own trousers open, freeing his huge rigid green cock. It slapped against your thigh, already leaking, He gripped your hips, lifting you with effortless strength until your back was against the mossy stone, your legs wrapped around his waist. Or tried to, he was so large and muscular that your legs were just wrapped around his sides. The cool, soft texture of his skin was a shock against your own feverish skin.

He pushed his broad head at your entrance, his amber eyes burning into yours. "You fulfill your duties so well," he grunted as he slammed forward, sheathing himself inside of you in one brutal, perfect thrust.

The breath was punched from your lungs. The fullness was staggering, a delicious, stretching burn. He was so deep, the angle forcing him against a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

He didn't wait. He set a punishing and relentless pace, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, the wet, slapping sound of your joining echoing off the water's roar. Each thrust jolted you against the mossy rock, a chaotic mix of pleasure and primal claiming.

"Such a good... fucking... wife," he snarled, punctuating each word with a drive of his hips. "Preparing my food... taking my cock... letting me fill this perfect, breeding pussy..."

You were mewling, a continuous stream of helpless sounds, your fingers grabbing for purchase on his shoulders. The vulgar praise, the relentless friction, the thunder of him and the waterfall- it was too much. Another climax began to coil, tight and urgent, deep in your belly.

"You feel that, don't you?" he panted, his rhythm becoming erratic, frenzied. "You feel my cock swelling inside you? I'm going to pump another load into your tight cunt. Right here." His large palm pushed against your lower stomach, right where his seed would grow. He growled against your neck, "I'm going to breed you against this rock, and everyone will know the scent of my claim on you."

His words tipped you over. You shattered, your cunt convulsing around his invading length in frantic, milking pulses. You screamed his name into the mist, your body bowing against his.

With a roar that rivaled the waterfall, he buried himself to the hilt and held. You felt the hot, familiar pulse, jet after jet of his thick seeding flooding your depths, a scalding promise of consequence. He ground against you, his hips making small, circular motions, ensuring every last drop was as deep as it could go.

He stayed there, lodged inside you, his forehead resting against the moss above your shoulder, his breath ragged in your ear. His cock gave a final throb within your spasming cunt.

Thrall carried you around the loud waterfall bridal style, where you saw a bright blue pond steaming with warm water. You could see where the water flowed from deeper inside the mountain.

Thrall stepped into the relaxing hot water, carrying you into the water with him. You were still limp, your legs unsteady so he kept you afloat. You sighed as you felt the water cover your naked body, you trusted Thrall to keep you above the water and he did.

You were still in a daze after the way he had you against the rock. So you barely registered his hands gliding across your body, gently washing you. His rough hands had a tender touch, you hadn't exactly seen from him before.

Your eyes fluttered closed at how good it all felt, although you were still awake. Suddenly the silence and roar of the waterfall was broken when you felt his voice rumble from his chest, through the water into you. "You are a strong good wife, and you will be a great mother. You will give me so many strong sons and daughters, my wife."

You watched him as he lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles, his eyes closing. You were surprised to see relaxation in his face, his brow was unfurred as he took a deep breath. You were so lost in thought observing him that you didn't notice when his eyes met yours.

His eyes remained locked on yours as his other hand, that wasn't supporting you, moved past your breasts in the water making you gasp. His hand came to rest on your hips, his grip tight and dominating while still being gentle. He pulled you towards him, you felt his aching cock hard against your thighs.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a deep wet kiss, his tusks grazing your cheeks when he almost nuzzles them against you as he groans. He had slotted his large cock between your thighs, you weren't close to the top of the water but still his tip almost broke the surface when he thrusted upwards.

He hears you moan softly, a long moan that tells him that this pleases your greatly and he grunts as it fills him with pride.

He angles your hips which makes his cock run against your clit even more, he is now sliding between your lips. You hear him growl, a low rumble in his chest as you both slowly build up to your orgasms. He hears you gasp and how your moans change, he knows you are getting closer.

He growls against your ear, his tusks rubbing against your cheek again as he growls, "Such a good wife...sound so pretty when you come..." You hear his own resolve break between his words, and you reach for him desperately scratching his chest with your nails. You don't draw blood but it's enough for him to break. He pulls you onto his cock, aggressive and deep, shooting ropes of come deep inside of you again. You fall over the edge when he pulls you onto him in one quick deep thrust. You scream and almost sob as tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks as your cunt tightens around him from your intense orgasm.

He is growling, almost purring as he leans down against you keeping you inside the warm water as he licks your tears off of your face. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you hold him close.

Word count - 2,262

The candles all go out in an instant. You turn to look at the candles, a stream of smoke going into the air. No wind again, what the fuck. The air chills, you get goosebumps and shiver when you feel it.

Someone is here.

You look up quickly and see dark smoke in front of you, inside the salt circle, and the pentagram with you.

You can’t make out anyone in the smoke, but you feel it.

An old ancient power, older than anything you have seen with your coven. And now you were alone.

Your breathing quickened and you know you can’t run, so you stay standing.

Staring at the smoke as it slowly dissipates and you see a man standing in front of you.

You know he isn’t a man though, despite his nice clothes and white toothy grin.

He takes a step closer to you, and you see him better. Your breath catches.

He’s hot.

No, no, no this is a literal demon. Before you can start flipping through your grimoire, your eyes meet his.

His icy blue eyes stare into yours with curiosity, like a predator eyeing its prey when it does something odd.

“You weren’t the one I called.” You say worried, and questioningly. Your circle was specifically made for the other demon, and that demon only. So how did he get here?

“I never said you called me.” He says playfully with an evil smirk, his arrogance comes off of him in waves as he steps closer.

He’s up close now, his smoky spiced musk fills your lungs and he smells good.

The way he looks down at you feels like a cat toying with a mouse.

You put in a brave face and just ask, “Then why are you here?”

He tilts his head at you, his eyes scanning your face studying you. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You scrunch your face slightly, “What? Demons don’t just… appear without a purpose.”

“Exactly.” He says matter of factly.

“So what do you want from me?” You say almost rolling your eyes, this is not how you were trying to spend your night. Arguing with a demon.

He came up into your personal space now, looming over you, his face dark, voice a low rumble, “That’s the problem. I don’t know. And I don’t like not knowing.”

You take a small step back, he was so close it was like you couldn’t breathe without him being in the air. “Well, figure it out somewhere else. I don’t agree to this.” You say putting your hands up comedically as you pick up your grimoire and start to collect your candles.

His eyes follow you, amused. “You think I’m enjoying it?”

You glare at him with a slightly frown. “You broke my circle.”

“Your circle broke itself.” He says confidently.

“That doesn’t happen. And my circle was fine before you showed up, it wasn’t for you.” You spit at him with a short burst of anger before it fades.

“It did tonight.” He pauses, his gaze narrowing at your. “ Because of you.”

Your jaw drops, “Me!? I didn’t do anything-“ He cuts you off.

“You did something. Some part of you…” his voice drops “pulled.”

You scoff at him almost a laugh, “That’s impossible.”

He gives you a slow shrug, his arrogance obvious. “Then give me another explanation.”

“I don’t have one.” You say matter of factly.

He’s in front of you in an instant, his presence overwhelming again. His voice is low, “Neither do I. And that should worry you more than it worries me.”

Your voice wavers slightly, his intimidating presence and smirk making your voice soft. “Why would anything in me reach for you?”

He leans in even closer, you feel his breath on your lips as he says “Because power recognizes power.” His blue eyes gleaming down at you.

“That sounds like a threat.” Your heart beat faster, thumping against your ribs.

“It’s a warning.” He says playfully.

“Are you dangerous to me?” You say quickly.

He smiles at you sharp, but his voice soft and low. “Only if you tell me to be.”

His words make you shiver slightly, his effect on you is intense.

“Only if I tell you to be?” You repeat, questioning what he means.

He smirks at you again, slow and dangerous. “Demons respect intent. You’d be surprised how much power a whisper from you would hold.”

The words are like a weight on your chest, you breath deeper and your lips part.

“You act like I have control over you.”

“You don’t, and that’s the problem. Whatever force dragged me here don’t ask for permission.” He says frustrated, his jaw tensing and you finally notice how sharp his canines are. He’s definitely a demon, not a vampire but you had never seen one so close.

“And you think this is all…connected to me.” You furrow your brow, wanting answers. Your voice is soft.

He studies your face like it’s a riddle, “I don’t think. I know. Your magic reached past every ward and realm to pull me.” He bends down, his lips softly grazing yours as his hands hold your head.

His immense power and beauty was terrifying as he struck the sword he was forging, each muscle shifted with his every movement. He was so toned that you could see his muscles move from under his clothes, the glow from the lava shining against his face and although you couldn't see him well from where you were standing you could tell he was chiseled and perfect like an angel. Sweat glistened on his skin, tracing down the hard lines and edges of his jaw, down his neck and along his collar bone. He was magnificent, you thought as you squeezed your legs together, of course you knew you could only dream of a man that looked as good as him to be interested in you. You were a poor girl with no family, working as an apprentice to the blacksmith simply because there wasn't work anywhere else.You knew you should stop staring and get back to work but, your feet were rooted to the spot.

You held your breath as his arm holding the hammer froze mid-swing. He didn't turn around, his voice was a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the stone you stood on and it washed over you. "You have been watching for some time, little one. Do you find my work so fascinating?"

You jumped, a small gasp almost a squeak escaping your lips. You thought you had been so quiet and he didn't know you were there, "I- I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to intrude."

You knew you should have quickly scurried away with you head down to continue your work, but you couldn't look away from him. Halfway fearing what he will tell your mentor/boss but also what he might do to you. Slowly, he set the hammer down. The silence that followed was more deafening than when he had been striking the hammer. He turned, and your breath caught. His face was sharp, with elegant angles and eyes that burned into you although they were dark. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. A slow, unnerving smile touched his lips as his gaze raked over you taking in your soot-stained apron, the simple tunic beneath, and the way your hands nervously twisted and clutched at the fabric.

"Were you lost?" His words were a soft question now, a curious purr. You nodded barely, grateful for an excuse as to why you were watching him. You were frozen as he took a step forward, and then another, closing the distance between you with a predator's grace that made your pulse jump. He towered over you, his presence overwhelming, fulling your entire world. "You weren't really lost, were you little one?"

You could only stare up at him, mesmerized. The heat coming off of his body was immense, like a living furnace that pushed back the forge's ambient warmth. He lifted a hand, and you flinched instinctively. He paused, his smile gentling.

"I will not harm you," he says speaking your name in a low voice, sending a jolt of shock through you.

"How... how do you know my name?"

His dark eyes held yours, "The same way I know the feel of enchanted steel. Because you are mine." He closed the distance as his knuckles, still warm from the hammer, gently brush a smudge of soot from your cheek. The touch was electric, a brand of sensation that made your knees feel weak. "An ancient magic, little one. A prophecy written in starlight and shadow, my fated one delivered to me."

His words should have sounded insane, terrifying even. But something in the depths of his eyes held a truth that resonated in your bones. His thumb stroked your cheekbone, a slow caress. "Your heart is beating so fast. Are your frightened of me?"

"N-no," you whispered, the lie evident in your trembling voice.

"Good." He murmured, his face dipping closer. His scent was incredible, like smoke, hot iron, and something wild like a lightning storm on a summer night. "Fear has no place between us. Only this." his other hand came up to cradle your face, his touch impossibly gentle for such a powerful being. "You feel it, don't you? This pull, the fire."

You could only nod, your lips parting slightly. You remind was screaming at you to flee, but your body was leaning into his heat, craving more of his touch.

"I've waited an eternity for you, I almost thought you didn't exist," he whispered his mouth so close to your that you could feel the whisper of his breath. "I want to corrupt you with please, I want to drown you in sensation you've never even dared to dream of." His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and a soft desperate sound escaped you. "I am going to workshop every inch of your stunning, delicate form. I am going to make you mine in every way possible."

Then his lips were on yours.

It wasn't a gentle first kiss. It was a claiming. His mouth moved over yours with a confident, searing heat that melted every thought in your head. It was demanding, yet incredibly sensual, a masterful exploration that left you dizzy and clinging to the hard muscles of his arms for support. A low growl reverberated through his chest, and you felt it everywhere. One of his hands slid from your face down to the nape of you neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tilting you head to deepen the kiss. The other hand splayed across the small of your back, pressing you flush against his solid chest.

You were lost in it. In the taste of him, the feel of him, the overwhelming rightness of being in his arms. Your hands, once clutched in fear crept up his arms feeling the incredible power. He broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. His dark eyes were lighter almost, like they were hiding a blazing fire deep within, the possessive look in them making your core clench with a sharp, unfamiliar need. 

"So soft," he breathed, his gaze dropping to your lips, swollen from his kiss. "So perfectly, beautifully mine." His hands moved to the ties of your heavy leather apron. He didn't fumble; his movements were sure and steady as he loosened the knots. The thick apron fell to the floor with a soft thud, leaving you in just your thin worn tunic. His intense focus dropped to your body, you felt exposed, vulnerable and utterly exhilarated.

His large, warm hands slip up your sides, the rough pads of his fingers scraping lightly over the thin linen and you shuddered. It was as if a bolt of pure lightning had just shot through you. "I can feel you trembling," he murmured, a dark pleased edge to his voice. His palms smoothed over his ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the fabric. "You like my hands on you."

He had a soft smirk on his face, it wasn't a question. You arched into his touch involuntarily, a silent answer that quickly drew a wicked smile from him. Quickly black smoke surrounded you both, and as quickly as it appeared it disappeared and you were suddenly in the tunnels below the forge.

Before you could utter a word he said, "I am going to take this off," his fingers hooked into the neckline of your tunic. "I need to see the skin I will soon be memorizing with my tongue," he said playfully poking his tongue out to show you that it was forked. "I need to feel your heart beat against my palm." He began to pull the fabric down, the coarse linen dragging softly over your sensitive skin revealing the gently slope of your shoulder, then the top of your chest. His eyes grew darker, the fire inside burning hotter. 

To be continued...

~ 1459 words

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

You told the chief and his wife that you would love to immerse yourself in their culture to understand them, and so the tall orc standing closest to you was assigned to translate for you and help you with any questions you had. He didn't seem very pleased, and in fact stood very still and stiff.

His name was Vaerok, he turns to look at you and nods his head in agreement and introduction. He towered over you, his deep green skin catching the torchlight like polished stone and you could see his hard muscles accentuated by the shadows. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a warrior's style. You noticed how a few strands had slipped free and brushed against his sharp jawline. You thought he seemed very stoic. Although you were sure he knew you were nervous, he didn't look like he noticed as his golden eyes met yours.

The next few days he maintained a strict distance and was very formal, he protected you when an orc or two would say hateful things about you or your father but he hardly spoke to you. You understood that humans were hated because of your father, but you were hoping to change that.

As you walked through the village with him on the fourth day of your visit, you asked him all sorts of questions about himself and his life. He would either ignore the question entirely or answer in no more than five words in a gruff tone, although his voice and appearance were cold and he had the resignation of someone only doing their duty you felt attracted to him.

The way that his golden eyes seemed to soften slightly when he looked at you, or how his lips looked so soft and his tusks were so large they made you want to know what it felt like to kiss him. But you would never ask him that, you blushed and giggle softly to yourself at the thought.

Suddenly you reached a part of the market that was dense with orcs. He quickly and smoothly pulled you behind him as he came to stand in front of you, as his large arm reached back as his large fingers found your arm to make sure you were still behind him. The touch sent goosebumps through your arm and down your body. His touch was gentle and warm as he navigated you both through the crowd to an area where you could be alone for a moment.

You thanked him softly, and you noticed that he seemed flustered by your soft voice and the sweet smile you gave him. You were drawn to him as you noticed that beneath his armor there was something deeper, a warmth he refuses to show but you feel when he does speak to you.

~

Halfway through your time visiting, you were sitting enjoying a meal with the tribe during the night's bonfire. A warm glow was cast among the orcs as they were all engaged in laughter and conversation. All you could focus on though, was Vaerok's wary and tense movements. Every muscle was drawn tight as he moved like a shadow staying close to you, his gaze constantly sweeping over the crowd of orcs.

Vaerok had told you it would be safest if you ate your meals in your tent, he was worried about the whispers he had heard of rogue orcs who despised humans. but you were persistent and eventually the relented to your pestering. His agreement was reluctant and his face was like stone, you could sense that his concern was not only from duty. While you ate you tried to pretend that his hovering was nothing more than an obligation, but you felt the truth deep down as his protectiveness made your heart beat faster.

The bonfire gave everything a shadow in the moonlight, and you could feel the tension radiating off of him like another heat against your skin. You opened your mouth to reassure him and tease him lightly, but no sound left your lips.

There was a shift in the crowd, a break in the usual rhythm of everyone's conversations. Vaerok's golden eyes spotted them instantly, two orcs wearing unmarked armor were surging towards you from opposite sides on the bonfire. Their expressions were hard with intent, and hatred. "Princess! Down!", Vaerok shouted his voice like thunder as everything happened at once.

Vaerok shoved you behind him as he stepped towards the attackers, the force of him stole your breath. He intercepted the first attacker's blade with his arm, the second orc bared his tusks and lunged at you with a dagger. Vaerok had cast his attacker to the side and moved between you and the other orc. He was successful in blocking the attack against you, and he took the hit of the blade across his shoulder. The steel split his skin with a brutal scrape.

You cried out his name immediately, and you weren't sure if you had ever said it out loud before.

Orc guards rushed into the scene, but Vaerok was faster as he grabbed the dagger and killed the orc. Blood was dripping down his arm, between his tense dark green muscles and skin but he never faltered.

Once the orcs were subdued and guards were escorting the living one to a cage, you saw him away slightly as his breath became sharp. You rushed to his side, "You're hurt Vaerok..." Your voice was soft and worried, you looked up to him with a furrowed brow and watery worried eyes.

He looked down at you, his eyes bore into yours with relief. His large hand held you at the base of your neck, and for a moment the entire world narrowed to only the two of you. His gold eyes softened as they looked at you, the firelight catching them making them softer in color. His breath brushed your cheek, the moment was the most intimate you had shared together. Your hands which cupped his arm trembled, you were worried for him and felt electricity throughout your entire body at the warmth you felt from him.

"You are unharmed," he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp of relief and something deeper woven into it. "Because of you, yes." You whispered back to him.

The sound of the chaos surrounding you, the shouting, the issue of orders, all faded. Your hand was flush against his chest, all you felt was his heartbeat against your palm and all you saw was the unguarded emotion which flickered across his face before he forced himself back behind his stoic walls. But it was too late, you had caught it, and he saw the way you looked at him in return. There was care, and affection in your eyes.

You were pulled apart when the chief and his wife insisted that he be taken to the healer's tent. He protested, his gruff and frustrated attitude unhindered by his injury, but his wound continuing to bleed made the choice for him. You watched him go with worry twisting in your chest, you watched as he sent you a look before leaving. He was still worried for you to be without him, as if you were still in danger.

~

Later in the night, when camp had quieted and the healers had left Vaerok to rest as he lay on a cot, half-sitting with his shoulder wrapped in fresh bandages, he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the truth of his feelings to surface. He feared for you, the idea of him not being at your side had clawed at him more viciously than any blade.

He heard the tent flap rustle softly, and opened his eyes expecting to see a healer.

Instead it was you.

Your hair was loose from the updo it had been styled in for dinner, your expression was a mix of determination and worry as you slipped inside before he could say a word.

"Princess," he said sitting forward too quickly, wincing slightly. "You should not be here. You are not guarded-" You whispered cutting him off, "I didn't come for safety," you crossed the small space between you. "I came for you."

Your words stopped him cold.

You quickly knelt beside his cot, as your hand found his where it rested on the blanket. "You were hurt protecting me, and I know you'll say it was your duty but... I feel it was more than that." Your words are rushed, and full of emotion. Your breath was quick as your nerves of confessing your feelings felt like a buzz in your chest and in your fingertips.

His breath caught, just slightly. "You assume too much."

"No," you said softly, "I see you. Even when you try to hide behind that stone face." Your eyes were searching his, begging for him to look at you as he looked in the distance as if debating something in his mind. He exhaled slowly, as his tusks lifted into something that wasn't quite a smile and not a surrender. "You should not look at me that closely," he muttered. "It makes it difficult to remain...composed." Your heart fluttered, and you leaned forward pressing your forehead to his, your voice trembled with a truth that you could no longer keep. "I care for you, Vaerok. More than I should, more than I meant to."

His hand rose, hesitant almost reverent as it brushed your cheek with a gentleness you never could have imagined from him. "I have tried to fight these feelings," he confessed, his voice was low and rough. He looked up to meet your eyes, the vibration of his low voice making you shudder. "But when the blade came for you tonight..." He swallowed, his eyes darkening. "I realized I cannot. You are no longer just my charge, you have become..." He shook his head slightly, unable to find the word. "Everything."

After such a deep and intense gaze from him, you closed your eyes. You lifted yourself to sit on his cot next to him, then your lips brushed his brow. "Then let me stay. Just for tonight." His body answered before he could, a soft rumble from deep in his chest, a sound that was protective and tender.

"Stay."

And you did, you curled at his side on his cot. Your fingers laced with his as you laid almost on top of him, careful of his opposite shoulder which was wrapped in bandages. All while the camp slept outside, unaware of the new fierce bond that was formed between you both.

He was fighting like a warrior, but it made your heart beat harder. Not only because of the events taking place, but the power and force that Vaerok

~ 1,913 words

You come to a stop in front of him, as the other orc who led you inside walks to shut the doors and you and the King are left alone. Thrall steps from his throne and in a few quick strides is in front of you close enough that you can feel his breath, but he has not touched you yet. Your eyes close as you take in the earthy warm scent of him, "Look at me." Thrall's rough voice is a low rumble which sends a vibration through you, and you look up to meet his golden eyes. Thrall loomed over you, his massive frame caging you in blocking you from the light of the torches behind him. His thumb traces over your lip, pulling it lightly before he pulled away gently. His gentleness was surprising, but not as much as the look in his eyes which made you almost dizzy because you didn't feel or see the monster you thought you should fear. Instead you saw a hunger you have never seen before. He walks to the side of you to look at you, you feel your face get warmer as heat pools in your stomach. You follow his body movements with a nervous but excited gaze, he is much more handsome than you had imagined and his actions were making you feel in ways you hadn't before. "You're such a little thing", he spoke gruffly his voice, "Such a pretty little thing." You were having a hard time standing still, you were buzzing from his intense intimate gaze like he was sizing you up. You tried to look anywhere but him, but the feeling of his eyes all over you became too much and when you saw his eyes you knew then that he was thinking unsavory things about you. You blushed, hard as your eyelids fluttered but your eyes couldn't look away from him. He walked back in front of you, you were too anxious to speak. You weren't afraid of him, no, instead you were feeling things you couldn't have imagined feeling. You had a few crushes growing up, but this moment and the tension in the air was electric, you felt it in your bones. He invaded the space in front of you again, this time his fingers grazed over your cheeks feeling your soft skin. You felt his large calloused fingers as they stroked a path along your jawline, a soft gasp and breath broke through parting your lips. "So soft. They wrapped you up in a beautiful dress like a present for me.", he groaned almost growling as if to control himself. He was close enough to smell more of his earthy, smoky, masculine musky scent, you felt his warm breath against your bare neck and side of your face, his hand now in your hair holding you close to him. He growled a low whisper in your ear, "Did they tell you to fear me? To fear the things I would do to you?" He pulled away slightly, his face hovering above yours studying your features. You gasped as you heard his words, not out of fear but something else. Something that ignited a fire in your nerves. You nodded softly, the intensity of his presence striking you to your core and his scent making you dizzy. He chuckled darkly, his lips curled and you could see his tusks more closely now and his orcish features intrigued you.

"I don't wish to break you...break this perfection," he said his warm large hand now holding your small one as he leaned back to look you up and down, "I only want to claim it." His last words were so sharp and final, a deep growl rumbling through his chest you felt it in your own chest as your heart beat like a drum. With a hand holding your gently his other hand moved your hair from your shoulder to stroke your bare neck. He traced your pulse to the base of your throat, as if he felt it thump under your skin enthusiastically. "I am going to worship you." he said his deep voice sending heat to pool in your belly again.

The events that occurred in the cold and formal throne room was hours ago now. The wedding ceremony was a blur of orcish traditions which you were unfamiliar with, and your nerves kept you quiet as you participated in guttural chanting in orcish and faced the stern orcish elders. Thrall watched you the entire time, through the entire ceremony with desire. His gaze carried a physical weight, a possessiveness that stripped away every layer of finery and pretense making you feel naked before him. He had taken your hand to seal the pact, his hand engulfed yours and your mind fluttered to the moments from before. Despite his strength his touch was warm and gentle, his nostrils flared as if he smelled the sudden thrill which shot through you at the thought of his power and size over you.

Now you were alone with him in his private chambers, that fire in your nerves had almost become unbearable. You followed him into the room and when he shut the door his hand quickly found the small of your back pressing you into him. Shocked, you gasped and as your lips parted he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It was not what you expected, his lips were soft...yet again he wasn't what you had expected. His touch was sure but a question, a tender exploration. His lips moved with patience which concealed his brutish appearance. His rough stubble scraped at your delicate skin, the friction making you gasp in pleasure. He took this to his advantage and his tongue swept into your mouth, his tusks lightly grazing against your lips. Your tongues met in a passionate dance, his is commanding and tastes of spiced wine. I am kissing an orc. The thought should have horrified you, instead your knees went weak. A small, desperate sound vibrated in your throat as your hands, of their own volition, moved up to rest on his chest. The solid muscle was like living rock, and you could feel the powerful beat of his heart. He groaned, the sound was animalistic as his kiss changed, The tenderness had burned away, and was replaced by a raging urgency. Both of his arms now held you, one still pressed into the small of your back his large muscles caging you against him. His large hand splayed across your whole back, your body now flush against his hard one as his other hand tangles in your hair. You were melting, your shyness incinerated by the force of his desire. You were giving in, your body going limp and pliant in his strong overwhelming embrace.

He broke the kiss, only a moment both of you breathing raggedly. His golden eyes were blazing, like an eternal flame. "Do you see what you do to me, my queen? Do you feel it?" he growled, grabbing your hands and pressing it against his formidable bulge straining against his trousers. The size of him made you gasp, "This is all for you my sweet little human." Your eyes widen at his forwardness, he enjoyed your reaction growling against your ear as he kissed your neck feverishly allowing his tusks to crape against you as his chest rumbled. You moaned and gasped as you felt his need and desire in his trousers and in his kisses, he smelled you and caught whiffs of your shampoo, your perfume, and your skin. "You smell like sweet wine, I can't wait to drink you." His voice was deep, a commanding rasp as he rubbed his body against you and you felt his cock stir, this sent a shockwave of lust to your core. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching and so wet. You could feel the slickness soaking through your thin wedding underclothes. "I am going to take you to my bed," he whispered, his lips against your ear again his hot breath making you shudder. "I am going to peel the silk from your lush body. I am going to spread your soft thigh and taste your sweet cunt." Every words was a deep low growl, making you ache for him more. "I want to hear you scream my name while my tongue fucks that tight hole." Oh, gods. He began to remove your outer layer of clothes, in haste you joined him lustfully. You were panting, your head spinning. His filthy words were like a spell, weakening your resolve and setting your blood on fire. He didn't wait for an answer, in one swift motion he lifted you as though you weighed nothing and carried you to a massive bed covered in soft furs. He laid you down with reverence, his eyes devouring you as he stood at the foot of the bed. "My beautiful queen," he said his voice thick with intent as he pulled at your final under garments. "You were made for me, made to bear my seed. I am going to fill out so deep that you are completely full of me." His declaration was so primal, unlike anything you had ever heard spoken to you before. The effects of what you were about to do was life altering, which would have filled you with dread but instead you felt more arousal at your folds. The thought of him, of being claimed thoroughly unlocked a deep part of you that you never knew existed.

He tore his armor and clothing off, revealing his chest which looked sculpted from pure power. Then his trousers were gone, and his cock sprang free. It was as formidable as the rest of him, thick and long, jutting proudly from a thatch of coarse black hair. He climbed onto the bed and crawled over you, like a predator claiming his prize. he kissed you again, a deep soul-searing kiss, as his hands found your breasts. His palms were rough and calloused, but his touch was deliberate, kneading your soft flesh, his thumbs circling your nipples until they were hard, and aching. "So perfect." he grunted against your mouth. He moved down your body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire. He took a nipple into his mouth, he sucked hard his tongue lashing at your sensitive peak. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, offering yourself to him without a second thought. He lavished your breasts with attention, biting and sucking until you were mindless with need, writhing beneath him. He continued his journey south, his rough large hands pushing your thighs apart. You were exposed, completely open to him. The cool air hit your wetness, and you flinched but his grip on your thighs was firm. "Look at me, watch me taste what is mine." His fiery golden eyes locked with yours, you couldn't look away as you watched his head lower between your thighs. His eyes never left you either, not even as his tongue licked a long and slow stripe through your soaked folds. A loud moan was pulled from deep inside of you, the sensation was too much and too intense as something you had never felt before. He gripped your hips, holding you down and still as he feasted on you. He lapped at your clit, circling it, then sucking it gently between his lips. He drove his tongue inside of you, fucking you with it, the feeling sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. You moaned and gasped uncontrollably as he groaned and growled into you, "You taste like honey and sin." His voice was muffled against your flesh, but he growled again. "I am going to eat this cunt every fucking night." He dipped his head and tongue back down to feast on you, his tusks rubbing against your wet lips and thighs. You were babbling, pleading with him, your fingers tangled in his black hair. "Please... Thrall... please..." "Please what, my queen?" he asked, lifting his head. His chin glistening with your arousal, a teasingly playful dark look on his face. "I need... I need you inside me. Now." The coil in your stomach had tightened and tightened, it was unbearable. A savage grin spread across his face, he moved up your body and aligned his massive cock with your dripping entrance. Your hand moved up to caress his face and scratch the stubble on his jaw, your mouth agape with breathless gasps as you felt his blunt wide head pressed against you. "This is going to stretch your tiny little cunt, my sweet princess," he warned, his eyes locked on yours with intensity. "You're going to take every inch of my fucking cock. You're going to scream for me"