Page 13 of The Fall of the Orc

The orc frowned back toward him, his shaggy head tilting. “Ach, no,” he countered, husky. “For many orcs, the fresh seed of a human man is mayhap the richest, sweetest, most wondrous taste in all the realm. Not that we oft like to admit this, you ken.”

Gerrard was gaping at the orc again, at how his mouth was now betraying an amused, regretful little grimace. As if he really had meant that, as if he knew it fromexperience— and that was not,not, jealousy, simmering low in Gerrard’s belly.

“So you’ve done this before, then, have you?” he demanded, too sharp, too accusing. “What, do you have a regular habit of seducing and sucking off human men, in between bouts of killing us?”

The orc grimaced again, and shook his head. “I have not before had a man thus,” he replied thickly. “But I have heard the tales. And ach, I canscentyou, warrior.”

His voice had deepened, his big hand giving a frustrated-looking wave up and down Gerrard’s bare body, and Gerrard could only seem to stare back at him, breathing hard. Damn it, he was a mess, he couldn’t again be feelingrelievedby this. He should be fighting this, extracting himself from this ludicrous situation, rather than kneeling naked with an orc in a creek, and…

“But should you wish to test this,” the orc continued, his eyes shifting, glinting with meaning on Gerrard’s face, “mayhap you shall allow me to taste you… elsewhere?”

Elsewhere. Gerrard fought down the bizarre leap in his chest, felt his eyes widening on the orc’s face. But he didn’t move, didn’t argue, just kept waiting, silent and staring, as the orc’s big hand found his bare hip, and… tilted him. Moving Gerrard, just like he had the day before, shifting him sideways and around on his knees. And Gerrard still wasn’t fighting it, was just letting the orc turn him, and bend him over, his huge body hovering close behind him, so he could…

Lickhim. Oh, fuck, the orc waslickinghim, just there, that long slippery tongue delving deep between his bare arse-cheeks. Seeking that tight knot of heat with dizzying accuracy, and twining swift and shameless against it,intoit. While Gerrard choked and jolted all over, because this could not be happening, this orc’s tongue was not inside his — his —

The sound from his own mouth was almost a mewl, because oh, the orc was already working harder, deeper. Flicking and twisting that long slippery tongue, hitting that perfect spot again and again, flaring out staggering sparks of furious sensation deep into Gerrard’s very core. What was happening, this could not be happening, he was kneeling in a creek with an orc’smouthlatched to his hole, and an orc’s unthinkably longtongueburied inside him?!

But it was still happening, still here, still swarming Gerrard with impossible pleasure, drawing helpless, humiliating sounds from his mouth. And he was already shuddering, trembling on his hands and knees, to the point where one of his hands slipped on the rocky creek bottom — and the orc abruptly lurched back, away, his own hands gripping at Gerrard’s heaving sides, holding him in place.

“Is this yet — pain for you, warrior?” came his deep voice from behind Gerrard, laced with undeniable concern, withalarm. “I did not ken how much you were — ach. I did not wish to —woundyou with my prick, this day past, as I did.”

Gerrard’s sudden rebellion kicked and seethed in his chest, and his head snapped around to glare at the orc. No, damn it, no. This bastard was coddling him again, as if he was a weak, reckless little kitten who couldn’t bear a bit of rough handling now and then. And suddenly the hazy unreality of this confounding situation was again flickering away, fading beneath the mortifying truth of it. He was on his knees for an orc in a creek, this poisonous prick was his swornenemy, this could easily ruin hislife, and —

But before he could scrabble away again, the orc’s hands gripped tighter at Gerrard’s hips, his sharp claws painfully digging into bare skin, holding him still. And the orc’s gaze glinted on his, steady and challenging, as he dropped a clawed hand to his own wet tented trousers, and shoved them downwards.

It released the full length of his huge orc-prick, bobbing out heavy and veined and silvery between them, leaking a thick string of white from the glossy tip. And already the orc was shifting it closer, deliberately lining it up with… with Gerrard’s exposed, waiting crease. With where he still felt wet and wide open from those shameless ministrations of that hot filthy tongue, and Gerrard wrenched all over at the feel of that blunt slick head settling against him. Finding its place. Prodding just a little inside…

But the orc was still watching, waiting. His grip even slightly softening, his heavy brows raised. Very clearly giving Gerrard a chance to refuse, to run, to escape — but curse this orc, Gerrard didn’t want to escape. He just wanted — he wanted —

“Then take your defeat, human,” the orc hissed, all hot, deadly, wonderful promise. “And welcome your enemy’s prick up your rump.”

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Yes. Yes. That was what Gerrard wanted. His enemy’s prick. There.Now.

And then yes — oh hell — it was here. The orc was here. That hot hard flesh pushing forward, digging inside Gerrard, splitting him apart. The feeling far too strong, and yes, admittedly painful — but Gerrard was already lost in it, needing it, howling helplessly toward the moon as the bastard punched himself to the root, buried bollocks-deep in Gerrard’s arse.

It felt even bigger than before, invading him from the inside out, pinioning him in place like a giant vengeful spear — and then the orc started pumping. Far harder and faster than the day before, enough to make Gerrard’s teeth chatter, his hands sliding in the silty creek bed. The sensation so staggering, so impossibly overwhelming, hurling away the rest of his existence, coiling it down to this, just this.

And he could only bow his head, grit his teeth, and take it. Let the orc have his victory, let him keep using him, having his way with him, and Gerrard cried out again at the truth of it, the bare, brutal ecstasy of it. He was being conquered, ravished, powerful hips slamming hard, as slick swollen flesh gouged in again and again and again. And as a big, warm hand slipped down between his shaking thighs, fingers closing with proprietary ease around his hanging swinging bollocks, and squeezing tight —

Gerrard shouted as he sprayed out, his release pulsing into the rippling water beneath him with long, sustained jerks. While behind him, the orc faltered and groaned, the sound rumbling rich and low — and then he stiffened all over, and shot out, too. His rigid invading flesh kicking up again and again as he emptied his grinding bollocks, pouring himself deep inside Gerrard’s spasming grip, while Gerrard arched and moaned and… took it. Accepted it, as his defeat.

He was still shaking when the orc finished, when that softening heft yanked out with a slick sound, and a reluctant-sounding hiss — but then, without warning, the orc was gone. His touch, his hands, his cock, his warmth — all justgone, and Gerrard whipped around, fighting back the damnable plunge in his chest. Not again, what the fuck was it now, this prick couldn’t be —

Afraid? Yes, wait, that was fear in the orc’s eyes, in his big body, as he rapidly lurched backwards in the creek, his wide eyes fixed on… the water. The water that was bubbling and swirling around Gerrard, still with… with noticeable large splotches of Gerrard’sspunkin it.

The alarmed awareness swarmed Gerrard all over, his breaths coming fast and shallow as he watched the evidence slowly swirling away, eddying down the creek. Damn, that had been stupid, and careless, and reckless.I cannot risk even a drop of a man’s seed on my skin, the orc had said, and here Gerrard had blown his load in water right beside him? That definitely had to be something the other orcs could smell, right? Something Slagvor could smell? Something that could get them both killed?

“And you callmereckless, orc,” Gerrard said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Is — is Slagvor gonna smell that on you?”

He rapidly searched the orc’s face in the moonlight, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, his breath shuddering out thick and hard. “I… hope not,” he replied, hoarse. “I hope I caught this in time, I…”

His mouth twisted, showing Gerrard a glimpse of sharp white teeth, while yet more miserable comprehension plummeted in Gerrard’s belly. “Is — is Slagvor already suspicious of you?” his hollow voice asked. “Did you already see him yesterday, after we…?”

He didn’t finish, but the orc clearly followed it easily enough, his shadowy eyes blinking open again. “Ach, I saw him,” he replied. “But if he scented aught of you upon me, he did not betray any hint of it, so I hope…”

He shook his wet head, his chest heaving, his clawed hand running through his messy hair. And Gerrard swallowed as he watched, as he again read those signs of unmistakable fear all over the orc’s form. This damned orc, who’d fought him — and fucked him — with such relentless, dizzying power, was afraid of Slagvor. Truly, genuinely afraid.

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