Page 9 of Captured By the Orc

She nods, eyes fixed on the console where we’re about to chart a course through the asteroid field. “Let’s get started,” she says, pulling up the navigation plans. Her fingers dance across the holographic display, and I notice how she moves—like she belongs out here. Damn me for noticing.

“Tell me something, Garoth.”

“What?” I tighten a screw.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

And I can tell by her leaning toward me that she won’t stop asking until I answer her.

“Back home,” I start roughly as the memory hits me, “there’s this field behind where I live. Full of firegrass that lights up when the two moons cross. As a kid, I’d sneak out, lie in the grass, and watch the sky. Dream of riding those stars.”

My words hang in the air, heavy as a warhammer. It feels like I've just handed her a blade and bared my neck. But Lila doesn’t strike; instead, she looks at me with those blue eyes, and I see something like wonder—or is it understanding—flash within them.

“Sounds beautiful,” she murmurs, turning back to the display. The console lights paint her face green and blue, shadow and light playing over her features.

I rip my gaze away from her. My heart’s pounding like war drums, but I push it down. No time for this shit.

“That should do it. Now to get you back to your home. Plotting a path through an asteroid field requires precision,” I say, almost growling.

I lean in closer, our shoulders nearly touching as I point to a cluster of rocks on the screen. “We’ll need to adjust thrusters here... and here.” My finger hovers over the display, but all I can think about is how warm she is next to me.

“Understood,” she replies, but there’s a hint of something in her response.

Our hands move together, almost touching, as we coordinate the sequence of maneuvers, the ship responding to our commands like it’s an extension of our bodies.

“Your turn.” I step aside to let her take the lead. Watching her, there’s an ache deep in my gut, one I’ve been fighting since she came aboard. It’s not just respect for her skills or admiration for her guts—it’s more basic, more dangerous. How I want to taste her, feel her, bury myself inside her.

“Like this?” she asks, executing commands with confidence. Her brow furrows in concentration, and without thinking, I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly like that,” I say roughly.

The touch lingers, my calloused fingers against her soft skin. It's like a fucking electric current straight to my core.

Her pulse quickens under my touch, and for a moment, the vastness of space seems to shrink down to just this point where we’re connected.

She doesn’t pull away, and in her eyes, I see something smoldering, ready to burst into flame if given the chance. “Garoth,” she says softly, and her saying my name pulls me in, making me want to say things no orc should ever feel, let alone say the hell out loud.

But I hold back. The bounty hunter and warrior in me crush this weakness. “Stay sharp, Lila,” I warn, though it’s myself I’m really talking to. Because out here in the cold void of space, it’s her I’m craving.

The console lights up like a fireworks show, alarms blaring. “Frak,” I mutter under my breath. Dead navigation system. Just what we need.

“Here.” She doesn’t look up, but her hand brushes mine as she passes a tool, and it’s like a lightning strike straight into me. I stomp it out, forcing everything but survival out of my thick skull.

“Quick thinking,” I say instead, nodding at how fast she spotted the faulty relay. Her lips curve in a small, triumphant smile, and something twists inside me, a heat I have no business feeling.

“Comes with the territory.” Her eyes never leave her work.

I watch her, taking in the way her braid has come loose, dark waves framing her face. The subtle flex of muscles beneath her jumpsuit. It’s torture, being this close, the ship forcing us together like this.

“Move,” she instructs, her tone brooking no argument, and she crawls back into the small space beneath the console we worked on earlier.

I join her, shining a light so we can both see.

We’re in the ship’s guts now, crammed in tight. Cold metal at my back, the heat of her body at my front. Every breath brings her scent, something wild I can’t name, filling me with an almost painful hunger.

“Steady,” I murmur, my hands finding the edges of the panel she’s wrestling with. We move together, a dance we’ve never practiced but somehow nail perfectly. The tension between us is a live grenade, ready to blow any second.

“Got it!” Her voice rings out, triumphant, and the panel clicks into place. For a moment, we’re frozen with things we’re not saying, desires we’re not giving into.

---