Chapter 17

SITA

I t is a wild evening at Lassa’s home. Their house is a tad bigger than Gurrek’s and decorated to the gills with antlers, horns, and even a big bear’s head. I gape at it as Lassa tells me the story of coming upon it in the woods.

“I wouldn’t typically kill a bear, a wolf, or a cougar,” she explains. “But this bear wanted a fight, and she got it. Sliced her open with my hatchet before she could skewer me and brought her home.” Then she proudly shows me the fur, which they keep on their bed, and I marvel over her victory.

We drink and laugh while Lassa tells stories, some of which I can’t fully understand as both she and her wife talk rather fast. But even though they are near strangers, they treat me like an old friend, and it reminds me of the days back in my village when the young women would get together at the pub and commiserate about our long days. Though my homesickness still lingers under the surface of my skin, on nights like tonight it feels more muted, a little farther away.

“So?” Lassa asks, elbowing me in the side and taking a big sip of her beer. “When are the younglings coming?”

My mouth goes dry. Gurrek wanting anything physical with me is still so new, the idea of children is... far from my mind. Besides, I don’t even know if he would want to do that with a human. We would have half-orc children. The idea of it might repulse him.

“Is the sex good?” Lassa’s wife, Nirazi, asks as I remain silent. “At least tell us the sex is good.”

I can’t stop the embarrassed heat flushing my face, so I cover it with my hands and say nothing.

“Sita?” Lassa asks, setting her beer down. “Tell me the truth. Do I need to knock some sense into that stupid orc?”

I shake my head, waving my hands around. “No, no. We are...” I wish I was more fluent on nights like tonight. “ Working toward it?”

The two of them glance at each other, then back at me.

“Hm,” Lassa says, scouring me with her eyes. “You are small.”

“Small and human,” adds Nirazi.

They nod in unison.

“He probably doesn’t want to hurt you,” Lassa concludes. “You’re not an orc wife.”

Nirazi throws an arm around Lassa’s shoulders, squeezing her. “Orc wives can take a bit of a beating,” she explains. Lassa punches her wife playfully, and they both laugh. “See? Tough and strong.”

They look so happy together, but her words are like a knife.

I’m not an orc wife. I am not big or strong, not like these women.

Lassa pinches my cheek. “You are wee and delicate. Gurrek knows this. That is why he is going slow with you.”

But I don’t want to go slow. I want him . My cheeks get even hotter as I realize they are probably right, and Gurrek is behaving much more hesitantly with me because of who I am. Because of what I am.

“Look at the poor thing’s face,” Nirazi says, pushing Lassa away. “You’re embarrassing her. I don’t think humans are as open as we are.”

They take this opportunity to drop the subject, thank goodness, and I don’t have to weasel my way out of any more awkward questions for the rest of the night. I’m grateful, because I don’t want to think any longer about how uncomfortable and off-balance it makes me feel.

Thanks to the alcohol and the conversation, I’m buzzing with my enjoyment and my skin is burning hot when I return home. I want Gurrek’s mouth and hands and... well, everything. I want to know what’s between his legs when we sleep together at night, what it is he’s hiding from me. Now that he’s pleased me, I want Gurrek to moan, to come undone, and I will watch his face when he reaches the tipping point like I did.

I will show him I can please him as much as any orc wife can.

My small victory is that now I spend the afternoons at the forge, helping Gurrek with his work. It’s... erotic to see him at the anvil, swinging his hammer. And it’s fulfilling to help him.

A few days later, when Gurrek has completed two of his projects, I offer to take them to their respective owners to collect payment. He gapes at me.

“Alone?” he asks, as if I can’t walk somewhere by myself.

“Tell me the way to go, and I’ll do it while you work.”

Gurrek shakes his head, as if he’s going to refuse my simple request, but stops himself. With a great sigh, he puts the shovel head he worked on this morning into a basket, along with a set of metal cuffs attached with a chain. I peer at them curiously.

“Don’t ask,” he says, shaking his head. “Just deliver them.”

I feel like it’s something filthy. What are they going to be used for?

My first stop is to deliver the cuffs at a larger house on the opposite edge of the village. When I knock, a big orc greets me at the door, surprised to find a human woman waiting there. I show him the cuffs, and he’s about to take them from my hands when I wag a finger at him.

“Fifty-five pence,” I say, using the counting words that Merka’s been teaching me in earnest since I told her my idea.

“Hoo!” the orc loudly proclaims, then slaps his thigh. “She won’t hand it over until she’s paid, hmm? That’s fair enough.” He shuttles back into the house to find his money, then returns with it, counting the coins out into my hand before I pass over the manacles with the key. An orc woman’s voice calls to him from inside the house, and he bids me a quick farewell before closing the door in my face.

My face flames as I imagine the woman in the house all shackled up while that big orc does whatever he likes to her. I wonder if Gurrek would ever make manacles for me. Would he be too afraid of hurting me then, too?

It sours my mood as I head to my next delivery.

The second item takes me to Dakar’s house, who Gurrek told me is the village butcher. He didn’t like the idea of me going to this house especially, and I’m curious why. I don’t think I’m in any danger, or Gurrek wouldn’t have let me go alone, but there must be a reason for his hesitation.

I use the directions he wrote and find the appropriate house, but no one answers when I knock. Hmm. I check around the house and discover a small building behind it, hiding under the tree cover.

Hoping that I’m not breaking some kind of orcish rule, I knock on this door and wait. Heavy footsteps fall on the other side, and then it’s jerked open.

“What?!” a big orc snaps.

I take a few steps back at the sheer volume of his voice. When he sees who’s on the other side of the door, though, he curses to himself.

“Sorry. I didn’t know it would be you .” A smirk pulls up the side of his mouth. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, little human?”

I hesitate as I bring out the shovel head. “I’m delivering this for Gurrek.”

“Ah, he has his wife working as his errand boy now?” I don’t understand all these words, but I do glean that it’s some kind of insult. He reaches for the shovel, but I keep it in the basket.

“That will be one hundred and twenty-five pence,” I say crisply. I want it known I won’t hand over the goods until he pays.

A booming laugh comes out of him, startling me.

“She drives a hard bargain.” Dakar reaches into his pocket and fishes out the money, then stops before handing it over to size me up. “Hmm, it looks like you’re settling well into your new life?”

Something about the tone of his voice makes it feel like whatever I say, it may be the wrong thing.

“Yes.” I don’t offer any more, and that only makes his smile grow wider.

“You know, I was there. One of those eligible bachelors. You could have come home with me instead.” His eyes graze over me, from my face, down to my breasts, and eventually my feet. His brows rise. “He bought you some fine boots, I see.”

I swallow hard. I remember this orc now. He called something out that night in the main hall, and I knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Now that hunch is reaffirmed.

“You must be doing well here, then,” Dakar goes on when I don’t answer. “So much for that pathetic little village you left behind, eh?”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Of course I think about them every day. Of course I wish they could be here with me, wearing nice boots and new clothes.

“Please give me the money,” I say, clutching the basket tighter. I think I understand why Gurrek was reluctant for me to come here. But I can’t live my life afraid, either, if I want to make this village my home. I would meet Dakar at some point, whether I came here today or not.

“I don’t know if I will.” The big orc rattles the coins in his hand. “I want to talk to you some more first. Why don’t you come in?”

I peer through the door, and the scent of fresh blood hits me in the nose. I don’t begrudge him his profession—I know that Gurrek frequently shops here—but it’s churning my stomach.

“No.”

The word comes out more firmly than I expected, but I know my boundaries, and I’m certainly not walking into a dark room filled with animal corpses with this stranger.

Dakar arches an eyebrow. “Well, that’s rather rude, to decline a polite invitation like that.”

“I need to go home. Please give me the money.” I hate repeating myself, but here we are.

“Perhaps it’s for the best you chose Gurrek.” This orc looks significantly less pleased with himself now. “I would want a polite wife, myself.”

“Then get one.”

As soon as the words come out, I clap a hand over my mouth and Dakar’s brows fly high on his forehead. I hope he doesn’t take my slight as a slight from Gurrek. I would hate to ruin his reputation among the other villagers.

But then Dakar smirks again.

“I didn’t expect this wee woman to have a mouth like that,” he says with a chortle. He reaches out and drops the coins into my outstretched hand, then snatches the shovel head. “Thank you. Tell Gurrek he did good work, as always.”

Then Dakar shuts the door in my face, and I’m overcome with my relief.

I scurry home, my heart still pumping. At least I left it on a good note with the butcher, but I’m not looking forward to telling Gurrek what happened.

“That piece of shit,” he snarls, after I’ve relayed the whole conversation to him. “Holding you hostage that way.”

“Hostage?” I ask, not recognizing the word.

Gurrek sighs. “He thought he could buy your time because you were running an errand for me.” Then, he grins. “But you told him off, didn’t you?”

I shrug, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s good that you did. He should know his place, and it’s not harassing another orc’s wife.” He kisses me on the head and pulls me in for an embrace. “I’m glad that you stood up for yourself. You belong in this village as much as anyone, and I’m sorry if he made you feel unsafe.”

I try to shrug it off. I’m wrapped up in my big blacksmith’s arms now, and everything is right. I don’t need to think about what Dakar said—he was just trying to get a reaction out of me.

“You are much more handsome than that jerk anyway,” I tell Gurrek.

At this, he barks a big laugh and squeezes me tighter.

“Perhaps I should reward you tonight for the help.” When he pulls away, his eyes are mischievous, and I’m thrilled to see him this way—open and willing, even playful.

“Yes, please.” I stand up on my toes to kiss him, and he kisses me back heartily. Soon we’ve forgotten about preparing dinner, too busy touching each other all over. Eventually, though, Gurrek pulls away, panting. That creature in his trousers is pulling at the confines of the fabric, and without realizing what I’m doing first, I rub a hand over it.

He jerks, eyes wide, and I hope I haven’t done something wrong. When I pull away, though, he captures my hand in his and slowly lowers it back to that lump between his legs.

“You surprised me,” he says, his lids swooping down over his eyes. “But I liked it.”

I stroke again, from the top to the bottom, and Gurrek’s big shoulders curl forward. I wonder how far he’ll let me go, whether I can get away with what I’ve been dreaming about doing for days now.

My hands fall to the button of his trousers, and he goes completely still. I fiddle with the contraption, but Gurrek lets me until I finally get it free. My eyes dart up to his as I run my hand down to the black hair that trails from his belly button into his drawers. I follow it with my fingers, sliding underneath the fabric, all while looking into his big, yellow eyes.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, hovering there.

Slowly he nods, his lips parted. “Yes, you may.”

Emboldened, I reach deeper, finding shockingly stiff flesh inside. His cock is curved down, held in by the seams of his undergarments. I explore it, starting at the thick hair at the base, then down the shaft that’s smooth and hot to the touch. I gasp when I realize just how long it is, how the skin keeps going until I find the tip, where it’s bunched up and wrinkled. Gurrek sucks in a deep breath, which I think means it feels good. Experimentally, I wrap my hand around that object and he grunts.

But now, I’m not sure what else to do, so I keep touching him, dragging my grip back up to the root. Another harsh breath stutters out of Gurrek’s mouth, so I do it again, stroking from the base back to the tip, where all his skin gathers, making a sleeve. Curious, I dip my finger inside the skin, and I find something of a completely different texture—soft and spongey and wet, and when I pull my hand back out, that wetness has transferred onto my hand.

“You get wet, too?” I ask, peering up at him. Gurrek’s eyes are hooded, and he licks his lips.

“Yes,” he says in a rough voice. “I get wet, too. To make it easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“Putting it inside you.”

A shock of pure, thundering lust shoots through me. That is where this fits, after all, so I shouldn’t be surprised—but the idea of it makes goosebumps explode across the surface of my skin.

He gets wet for me .

Once again, I wrap my hand around that surprisingly thick cock. When I stroke it a second time, Gurrek’s hips jolt forward, and his breathing grows uneven. I think he likes this.

So I keep doing it, moving my hand from base to tip and back.

“Squeeze harder,” Gurrek says, his hand finding its way to my thigh, where he imitates with his fingers what he wants.

I’m more than happy to oblige. I grip him tighter as I stroke again, and he groans in pleasure. It’s immensely pleasing to earn that sound from him, so I continue harder, faster, dragging that loose sleeve of skin along with me.

“Sweetling.” The word comes out almost strangled. “That’s... that’s so good.”

A smile takes over my face. I lean forward and kiss his chest while I continue my work on his cock until Gurrek is shaking under me. His hand grips me tighter, exploring down to my ass and back up again. I maintain an even pace, repeating the same motion and watching with glee as Gurrek loses control. His breaths come faster, harsher, and his body is leaning further into my touch with every stroke. He bends down to kiss my hair fervently, his tusks tangling in the loose strands—but he’s too lost to his pleasure to notice. His broad chest heaves, his belly flexing with every slide of my hand up and down.

“Ah, fuck,” he moans, grabbing me even tighter. “Oh, Sita. I’m going to?—”

I gape down as, suddenly, his cock swells in my palm. Gurrek groans, and then his knees nearly buckle under him. He puts a hand on my shoulder to keep himself upright, as something slick and wet shoots into my hand. It coats my fingers as well as the inside of his drawers, and Gurrek shudders as even more of it spills out. His mouth bobs open and closed like he’s trying to find words, but they’ve all escaped him.

Curious, I lift my hand out and find it covered in a sticky, creamy liquid. I remember how Gurrek licked me between the legs and seemed to enjoy it, so I bring my finger to my lips and lick some of it off.

His eyes go wide as I swallow it. It’s salty and musky and tastes, strangely, like him . I lick a little more, getting a better sense of it—and when I look up, I find Gurrek’s mouth open, his cheeks dark, dark green.

“You taste good, Gurrek,” I tell him, reaching for a towel to wipe the rest of it off my hand.

“You licked it.” He doesn’t seem to know what to make of this. “And you liked it?”

“Yes. Does it always do that?”

“That’s what happens when I come,” he says, his voice still shaky as he re-buttons his pants. They’re soaked at the crotch where he exploded inside them. He peers down, then laughs. “I should probably change these.”

Before he goes, though, he stoops down and kisses me on the mouth, sucking my lip between his teeth and nursing it before he lets me go. His posture is relaxed as he disappears into his bedroom, and I think that I’ve managed to please him.