Page 21 of Alien Orc's Prize

“Is this a joke?” I actually said it aloud, I was so jarred. The audacity, to fall asleep right in the midst of our first coupling! The extraordinary gall! To take what she needed and abandon me like this, her husband, her prince!

Who would dare to do it?

Probably the same woman who’d dare to flick me on the forehead.

By the seas, she was a lovely thing to behold when she slept.

It made her rather obnoxiously impossible to be angry with.

I sighed bitterly, giving my neglected cock a grimly empathetic squeeze as I clambered off of the bed. I scowled down at Luna, so innocently dozing away, making those littlesnorts over and over again. Snoring. So humans snored, did they?Must be related to the bad sense of smell.

Somehow she even made the snoring cute. It was absolutely intolerable.

Not the snoring. Thecuteness.

“You’re going to be stuck sleeping in that wet spot all night if you don’t wake up,” I growled at her, glancing at the already impressive load I’d left on the sheet beneath her. Curse the cute little creature, she didn’t even do a thing to acknowledge me.

Heavy sleeper.

Or else utterly exhausted. It occurred to me now that I’d never bothered to ask how the journey to Orhalla had been for her. If she’d slept well. If she’d eaten enough. That made me feel… odd.

Bad.

I didn’t like it.

“Roll over,” I muttered, trying very hard not to stare at all the beautiful bits of herself she’d left on guileless display so as to spare my cock any more agony. When she didn’t respond, I sighed and bodily moved her to the other side of the bed so she wasn’t stuck snoozing in the rapidly cooling mess I’d left behind. Not that a small, rejected part of me didn’t want to punish her a little bit by leaving her there. Let her get her legs all cold and wet. See if I cared. I’d be too busy sulking and stroking my cock like an idiot.

But I looked at her pink cheeks and her tiny little toes as she tucked her feet up towards her backside and I just couldn’t do it.

And so, instead, I began doing something I’d literally never done in all my royal days.

I began stripping my own bed.

It wasn’t that it was difficult or complicated. I’d just never needed to do it before. But I wasn’t about to parade some servant in here to see my wife in all her surprising human glory. Even themere thought had a burning scythe of jealousy the likes of which I’d never experienced tearing up my guts.

Once the sheet was peeled back on that side, I put the green coverlet down and rolled Luna onto it, folding it over her body until she was encased like the filling of a pastry, her head a little berry poking out the top.

Once she was safely off the wet sheet, I wrenched it fully off the bed and much more vigorously than was probably necessary. It tore at the exact moment Luna let out a particularly loud snore. I tossed the ruined fabric into a heap on the floor and stalked into the bathing room. Once there, I splashed cold water all over myself and then made myself come with startling quickness. Her scent was still all over, her taste in my mouth, the memory of her supple skin gliding beneath my tongue all hot and shuddering until I was spilling the rest of my seed into a wash basin, as well as all over myself.

Another rinse with even colder water and then I returned to the bedchamber.

Luna had burrowed further down, like an animal seeking warmth. The kind of animal you’d always heard in tales was rather smelly and ugly and maybe had a stumpy leg or two but in reality was something else entirely.

Something that you rather wanted to take care of.

Somethingcute.

I was using that word far too often tonight. It made me almost feel a little itchy.

I tossed my body down on the bed beside my sleeping bride. Folding my hands behind my head, I stared up at the ceiling for a while before turning to peer at Luna’s curled-up form. The little of it I could see, at least. Which currently was nothing but the shiny, pinned plaits on the top of her head.

“You should take your hair pins out to sleep,” I grumbled at her. I knew little about pinned-up female coiffures, but Ifrowned, imagining that there could be as many pins bundled up against her scalp as had been stabbing through her dress.

Of course, she did not answer. Did not even stir.

“I don’t know why I keep talking to you.”

And yet, I was. Even knowing that she would not answer. Or take out the pins I’d so helpfully advised her on.

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