Page 34 of Owned By the Orc Warlord
“This angle,” I groan, driving into her with long, powerful thrusts, “lets me fill every inch of you. You love it, don’t you?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—I can’t take it, but I don’t want you to stop.”
Her slick heat grips me so tightly it’s almost unbearable. I reach around, find her clit again, and rub in tight circles while I pound into her from behind.
Her second orgasm hits harder—louder. Messier. She screams my name as she comes again, and the feeling of her coming around me sends me crashing after her.
I thrust once more, buried to the base, and explode inside her.
Hot, violent, and endless.
My release floods her, my cock twitching deep in her pussy as I ride out every pulse. Her body milks me for everything, and I give it without hesitation. Everything. Every last drop. Every last vow.
When I finally collapse beside her, dragging her against my chest, we’re both shaking.
Breathless.
Marked.
Changed.
The fire crackles beside us. Our mixed scents hang in the air—smoke, sweat, sex, and something deeper.
Bond.
“I never thought I’d have this,” she whispers. “Not love. Not you. Not a night that feels like it could make everything worth it.”
I pull her closer, burying my nose in her hair.
“You have it. Youhave me.Whatever comes—this night is ours.”
And if tomorrow we bleed on the battlefield, if death hunts us through the canyon, let it come. Because I’ve already won.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the dying firelight, her head pillowed on my chest as our breathing gradually returns to normal. The painted symbols on her face have smudged against my skin, marking me with her chosen identity in ways that feel more binding than any ceremony.
"No regrets," she says, tracing lazy patterns across the tattoos covering my ribs.
"None," I agree, though the word feels insufficient to encompass what we've shared.
"Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever prices we pay for the choices we've made, remember this moment." Her voice carries drowsy contentment edged with fierce determination. "Remember that love like this doesn't come from desperation—it comes from recognition of something worth fighting for."
The observation cuts to the heart of what makes our bond different from mere battlefield romance. We're not clinging to each other from fear of death, but celebrating life in defiance of forces that would destroy it. The distinction feels crucial as we face an uncertain future.
"Sleep," I murmur, pulling the furs up around her shoulders. "Tomorrow requires all our strength."
"Will you watch over me?"
"Always."
The promise encompasses far more than protection through a single night. It's a vow that extends beyond death, beyond defeat, beyond any outcome tomorrow's battle might bring. Whatever happens, whatever choices we're forced to make, the bond forged between us tonight will endure.
Outside, the settlement settles into the restless quiet that precedes battle. Warriors make final preparations, families share what may be last conversations, and the very air seems to hold its breath in anticipation of violence.
But here, in the warm circle of firelight and shared furs, peace reigns despite the storm gathering beyond our walls. For this moment, this precious handful of hours, we're not chieftain and claimed, not tactical assets in an impossible war.
We're simply two people who've found something worth protecting in each other, facing whatever comes with the knowledge that we won't face it alone.
And perhaps that's enough to tip the balance in tomorrow's battle.
