Page 33 of Lost to the Orcs

His smile is wide, the laughter causing his eyes to glitter like gems. “Kits like ours, do say Da. Or ‘he Orc word isAithír.” The way he says it sounds almostlike father if it weren’t spoken with an f or the f is so soft you can’t hear it.

“F-eye-th-ear?” I try to sound it out and his mouth just widens into a bigger grin. The gems begin to melt and shine like molten gold. “Don’t make fun of me. Say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” That wipes the smile off his face, contorting it in a mass of disgusted confusion.

He shakes his head. “You made that up.”

Giggling, I shake my head. “No, pretty sure Mary Poppins did though. If you can’t say that then how about onomatopoeia?”

He sighs, “’he lady speaks in tongues.” He looks at me solemnly, “I must cure her o’ her ailment.”

I roll my eyes, battling a smirk. “How, pray tell, would you do that?”

“An ancient ritual. Passed down. Generation. T’ generation.” He pulls me closer, one hand on my hip, the other on my thigh. “Orc t’ Orc.” He takes my other hip in hand and he carries me to a deeper end. I shiver in the cold air before he sets me down on the warm rock above the water. He drops to his knees, his shoulders and head directly between my thighs.

I clear my throat. “Uhm… I’m pretty sure this will make metalkin tongues.”

He grins. “Only ’he right kind.” He puts my legs over his shoulders and pulls me to the edge of the rock, my hands behind me for balance.

A moan fills the space around us as he gives me one long lap from my back door to my clit. And again. As if he can’t help tasting all of me. He laves at my labia, nipping the plump flesh and kissing away the stings. My clit swells. It aches nearly as much as my center, which is starting to slicken with my nectar. He curls his tongue in the wetness and slathers it over me, swirling around my clit but not actually touching it.

I shove a hand in his hair, ruining his braids, trying to guide him to no avail. He will not let me lead. I groan, clenching my fist, clutching his hair in my hand. He dips his tongue inside me once more, causing me to gush, and does it again and again. Swirling his tongue. Keeping me on the edge. “More.” I moan. “Please, Jaedason. Please, MORE.”

His tongue stabs into me. Sharp, quick thrusts. I yelp, my insides clenching around him. He groans deep and guttural, vibratingme from within. I fall from the cliff. But I don’t worry, because Jaedason’s arms are strong and he catches me. He extends my climax for as long as he wills it. My body becoming so sensitive, I try to squirm away. But just as his arms are strong, so are his hands. He holds me still beneath his ministrations until I’m begging and pleading for him to take me. Fill me. Please. God, please!

“Jaedason!”

A growl erupts from him and he lifts me easily, palms beneath my ass, my chest meeting his, and the head of his prick grazing my slit as it jerks back and forth across it. I whimper and my finger nails dig into his shoulders. He growls at the bite and leans forward. His lips devour mine. I moan and he swallows it, me, whole.

He thrusts upwards. My body taking half of him. I scream, but it’s muffled as that too is swallowed. He takes one thigh in his hand and my waist in the other, opening me wide upon him while also nearly wrapping his hand around me to lift me up and down until my slickened heat is engulfing him. He breaks the kiss and we moan together as he twitches within me. Bumping places I never knew could be touched. The tip kissing my cervix.

“Perfection.” I whimper as he lifts me and throw my head back in a silent scream as he slams me back down. Jaedason growls his approval and he starts his slow but hard thrusts within.

I’m mindless within a few minutes. Begging him to go faster. I want my release. I need to climax. But he won’t give it to me. I become almost feral. Growling at him when he doesn’t comply and hissing when he roughly kisses me within. Close. I can feel it. It’s like climbing up a mountain when you’re winded. I stand at the pinnacle. The tip of the mountain, looking down down down, my head light and loopy.

“Cum for me.” I shatter. Tumbling, heels over head, down the mountain. That need again. That desperate need to bite and bite and bleed him, fills me. My mouth aches and I do the only logical thing I can think of. I bite him. I taste his blood on my tongue as he hisses. A rumble in his chest vibrating against me as he continues to slam into me. When I pull my mouth from his chest he releases my thigh, carding his large hand into my hair and kissing me. Licking me. He devours me, thrusting ever faster, so much harder. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain and it’s so heady, my body so needy, I fall again.

Jaedason crashes into me, his nails pricking my skin, his gripharsh. He bites over his mark on my neck and starts to fill me. Lodged so deeply within, if I were not already pregnant, I definitely would be now.

~~~~~

Aithír. I find myself rolling the word over on my tongue for the millionth time in so few days. They are my baby’saithír’s. I swallow, my hand caressing my tummy. It’s only been a few weeks and I’m not thin enough to see a difference, but I feel it. In my breasts, and these stupid cravings.

I groan looking at the gross blob on my plate.

It really is disgusting. I don’t even know exactly what it is, but Burgrol assured me it is a common craving among women pregnant with an Orcling. I feel like it should be a prank. But I know it’s not. How? I can’t get enough of it.

It smells like a dirty sock and looks like someone mixed my lumpy vanilla pudding/jello with their dirty feet. Like the “grey stuff”. I shiver. But even if it does look like that, I can’t get enough of it. It tastes like the smooth sweetness of caramel melting on your tongue with a hint of tartness being the odd lumps in the concoction, like little pieces of soft cooked apples.

I told Burgrol not to tell me how it’s made because I might throw up. Although, maybe that decision was too hasty because my imagination is coming up with so many terrible scenarios.

I take another heaping bite and groan, just as U’snar walks into the room. He raises a brow at me and smirks as he notices I have my nose plugged while I’m eating. “Ach, there Little Lost is! I looked forever for you, heart.” My own melts at the endearments because I feel in that connected part of my chest that he means every single one of them.

“U’snar! What are you doing here?” My smile rounds my cheeks, I’m so happy. “I thought you had a little mission to go on?” His eyes shift and there is discourse in the cord. “Did everything go okay?” I ask with concern.

He shakes himself and smiles at me. Everything is to rights. Maybe it was my imagination? “Yes, Little Lost.” He crouches before me and rubs his nose against my own. “All is well.” I hum in approval. It’s more like a purr that I’ve come to develop but I think of it as a hum. Like theirs.

U’snar gently rumbles at me. It soothes any of the aches in my body immediately. My body languid and almost noodle like. “Mmmm. It’s like getting a massage but with your voice.”

He grins at me before deepening his growl. Immediately, my thighs are tightly closed as I feel myself slicken with readiness. “U’snar.” I whimper a reprimand.

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