Page 20 of The Fall of the Orc

“Still good, captain?” he breathed, as he found what he was looking for, as his finger nudged up against it. “Should I keep going?”

Olarr’s nod was instant, still frantic, his eyes even brighter — and Gerrard rewarded him by slipping his other hand up to circle around those big heavy bollocks. Cradling them, caressing them, as his seeking finger kept nudging, prodding, pressing. Waiting for Olarr to give this to him, to welcome this from him — and yes, yes, there it was, his rigid shaky body intentionally bearing down, opening up, letting him inside. Suggesting, again, that this wasn’t new, and Gerrard fought down that awareness as he settled his finger a little deeper, just enough to keep Olarr open, to make him feel it.

“Good, captain,” Gerrard murmured, with another flash of a smile up at Olarr’s face. “You feel so good. Look so good. Such a good orc, aren’t you?”

Olarr arched and gasped again, his silken heat tightening around Gerrard’s finger, so Gerrard kept at it, slipping a little deeper, while gently squeezing those bulging weights in his other hand. “Such a good, strong, cunning Bautul,” he continued, hoarse. “So good at getting your man on his knees for you, aren’t you?”

And fuck, the way Olarr bucked and moaned at that, his eyes shocked even wider on Gerrard’s face — yes, yes, this was it — and Gerrard let his smile go wry, rueful, as he let his hand slide up from those full bollocks, toward that huge, straining grey shaft. Toward where it instantly responded to Gerrard’s barest touch, throbbing and dancing against his fingers, and spurting out little splatters of white against Olarr’s hard belly.

“Yeah, you have me right where you want me, don’t you, captain?” Gerrard continued, even huskier. “On my knees for you, working you over, lusting after this gorgeous cock of yours. Remembering how good it felt inside me.”

Olarr nearly howled this time, his big hands now in tight fists at his sides, as his gaze wildly darted between Gerrard’s face, and Gerrard’s hand on his cock. On how Gerrard had finally, finally circled his fingers around that full, straining shaft —damn— and guided it straight up, so he could blatantly admire the view.

“Fuck, this felt so good,” he continued, his voice rasping between his own gasping breaths, as he slowly, reverently, began stroking it. “Never felt anything like it in my life, captain. Your big, fat Bautul cock spreading my human arse wide open, shoving around in my insides, making me fit you —”

Olarr’s whole body was jerking, now, his hips powerfully pumping up to meet Gerrard’s stroking hand, and Gerrard let him do it, watched the utterly impossible sight of it, while his finger began slipping in and out of that clutching heat, fucking along with it. “And then pouring me full,” he choked. “Dumping out all that good Bautul seed into my belly. Emptying these big bollocks for me, fattening me up on you, until —”

Olarr’s cries hitched deeper, harder, his huge body thrashing beneath Gerrard’s touch, even as that silken heat finally fully opened, relaxed, swallowed his finger deeper inside — and Gerrard only had an instant, a breath of pure instinct, to lurch down toward that pulsing, dribbling cock, and suck it deep inside his mouth.

Olarr sprayed out with a roar, flooding Gerrard’s mouth with a sudden, shocking surge of…sweetness. Yes, sweetness like maple, like fuckinghoney— and Gerrard’s initial disbelief rapidly plunged beneath the overpowering, all-consuming urge to swallow. To aim that fat spewing head straight into his throat, so he could suck down every last drop of it. And fuck, it was good, it was the best fucking thing Gerrard had ever tasted in his life, and he moaned as he sucked out more, as Olarr bucked helplessly up into his mouth, as he distantly felt his own cock locking, shuddering, and —

Gerrard cursed as he yanked off, backed away, catching his own shaft tightly in his hand — but it was too late, damn it,damnit, and all he could do was aim it down, away, between his legs. Shaking all over as the pleasure wracked and roiled through him, crushing him in wave after wave of it, as the dregs of Olarr’s load splattered across the fur, and their mingled groans echoed through the room.

It took far too long for Gerrard to catch his breath again, to find his brain again — and suddenly there was only fear, sharp and sickening, as he scrabbled backwards, away. Away from where he’d left a vivid wet spot on the fur, and — he nearly choked — and on Olarr’s trousers. On where they were still bunched on Olarr’s leg, dangling against his knee.

Olarr had belatedly stiffened too, his eyes following Gerrard’s, his body shoving up — and in a flurry of motion, they were both yanking the trousers off, taking care to keep the wet spot away from Olarr’s bare calf. And once Gerrard had tossed the trousers safely away, across the room, Olarr bent toward his knee, dragging down a long, searching inhale — and then his shoulders heavily sagged as he exhaled, the relief shuddering all through his form.

“Ach,” he said, his voice cracking. “Ach, this did not sink through. Thank thegoddess.”

He’d even put his fist to his chest, his shaggy head bowing to his unseen deity, and Gerrard twitched a shaky nod, rubbing hard at his eyes. Fuck, that had been close, again — and so damned stupid. Why the hell were they even doing this, risking this again? Why had Gerrard ever thought it would be a good idea to go anywherenearOlarr without trousers on? And worst of all — Gerrard darted a brief, wincing glance down toward his own belly — what the hell had he been thinking, to go and swallow Olarr’s load like that? To fill himself with it, again, because —

Because yes, curse it, his belly looked just as rounded, just as compromised, as before. His new little paunch sitting just slightly higher this time, his stomach feeling excessively full — and now he could feel Olarr’s attention on it, too. No doubt remembering all that rubbish Gerrard had said in the midst of that, and why had Gerrard given him that, either, still given him thevictoryin it, and…

“Aulis,” came Olarr’s voice, scraping up Gerrard’s spine — and suddenly there were hands clasping both of his, squeezing them tight. Wanting Gerrard to look at him, but Gerrard wasn’t, he couldn’t.

“Ach, this was — this was so — so good of you, warrior,” Olarr’s voice continued, rapid and hushed. “So — kind, and so noble, and, ach, so — cunning. To grant me such gifts, when you ought to have only taken what you wished from me. This is — this was —”

His voice broke into his deep, dragging breaths, and finally Gerrard risked a glance upwards. To where Olarr was blinking back toward him, his grey face sweaty and flushed, his eyes glittering bright.

“I ken it is not easy for you, warrior,” Olarr choked, “to grant your power to me thus. But in this, you only keep gainingmorepower over me, ach? You make me fall all the harder at your feet. Until” — his breath shuddered, his voice dropping — “there shall be none commanding me butyou.”

Oh. Gerrard swallowed hard, fought to ignore the way those impossible words caught, kindled, in his gut. It was another confession, another admission of defeat, of loyalty, oftreason— even after Gerrard had gone and debased himself like that, had said all those appalling things, had knelt before an orc, and sucked his full load down his throat. And he didn’t even suck cock, he hadn’t for years and years andyears, it was supposed to taste rotten, and…

“So will you please stay here for a spell longer?” Olarr asked, his voice still thick, his hands clenching against Gerrard’s wrists. “Please, Aulis?”

His eyes were still pleading, and he even brought up one of Gerrard’s hands, gently kissing his sweaty palm, as though he was some fair, timid maiden at a ball. And Gerrard should be refusing, should be shoving him away, salvaging what was left of his pride, and…

And instead he was… sighing. Sighing, his shoulders sagging, as he watched Olarr kissing him, felt those warm lips and tongue caressing over his skin. Wanting him. Maybe even… worshipping him.There shall be none commanding me but you.

“Yeah, all right,” he said, the words a betraying waver in his throat. “I’ll stay.”

17

Olarr’s relief was like a light, brightening his eyes, flashing a broad grin across his mouth. And then he eagerly spun on his knees toward the basket he’d brought, yanking it over toward them with slightly trembling hands.

“Do you hunger, then, warrior?” he asked Gerrard, still smiling, though for an instant, it looked almost shy. “Or mayhap you wish for aught to drink?”

Gerrard took a breath, and then heard himself huff a laugh, thin and rueful in his throat. “I think I’ve had enough to drink for now, thanks,” he said, as he shot a wry glance down at his waist. “But food, yeah, sure, maybe a bit.”

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