Chapter Ten

C hapter Ten

W e pull on our clothes about a half an hour after we finish lunch, shorts and a short-sleeved shirt for the both of us. We spent the last thirty minutes reading, or at least Ironstorm read while I stared at a bookshelf trying to figure out the titles. After watching me do that for ten minutes, he showed me which shelf held the books written in Co mmon. Ass .

He has a decent selection. A lot of books on philosophy, war and peace, that type of thing. There are a few books on swordplay and technique that look like they might be interesting, but I cracked one open and the first ten pages were just this old dude recounting his childhood. Maybe it gets more interesting later on.

I finish tying my laces and do a little jog in place. I’ve actually been looking forward to the run since he asked about it. What? I’m used to either running drills five times a week or spending half the day on my feet traveling. Sitting around doing nothing for too long makes me antsy.

Just when I think we’re leaving and heading for the front door, Sir (I’m doing my best to keep the title in mind) returns to the bedroom to retrieve some things: cuffs and a leash. The chain is long, at least twice as long as the others he’s used, but it’s still a fucking leash . I stare at it, the disdain on my face clear as day, but I don’t protest when it’s attached to my wrist. Better than my neck. Once we’re finally ready and step outside, he locks the door behind us. We walk past the gate and go left before Ironstorm turns his f ace to me.

“Ready?” I nod in the affirmative and we’re off.

Our pace starts at a brisk jog. I don’t have any problems keeping up, but the leash does take some getting used to. I’m not worried about it getting caught on anything; it just keeps hitting me in the side, which is annoying. I also have to pay attention not to let someone or something get caught b etween us.

I inhale deeply as we run together. It really is nice to get outside in the fresh air and do something physical. I hate to admit it, but something I actually miss about the academy was how much stuff there was to do. You could always find a sparring partner, and there were pickup football games almost every weekend. I’ve been running around, climbing on, and hitting stuff since I was a little boy—it’s just wh at I know.

The weather outside today is nice, the sky mostly clear with a few fluffy clouds. It’s not too hot, though both of us are already working up a sweat. The streets aren’t busy, a few orcs here and there. The houses and bodies that we pass fade into a blur as my brain starts to drift off during the run. I barely even register the leash afte r a while.

At some point, the sweat from my brow starts falling into my eyes. I wipe it off on my arm, and it’s enough to make me aware of my surroundings again. I think the houses we pass look familiar, and my suspicions are confirmed when, after another turn, I recognize the park on our left from the pre vious day.

We slow down as we approach, coming to a stop under a tree to catch our breath. The park is as busy as it was when we first arrived yesterday, with plenty of orcs (and a few-non-orcs) around us playing games and eating their lunches. I lean back against the tree and wipe more sweat from my forehead while I look around. The park almost seems split down the middle: one half a mostly open field while the other is dotted with trees around a small pond in the center. The whole area is fairly flat, and I realize it’s also the first place within the city that I’ve seen any grass. People seem pretty content with their dirt roads and yards. I see a few stone benches—and the meat-on-a-stick cart—but for the most part, everything in the park is natural. The trees here resemble the ones making up the outer city’s tree line, though obviously much smaller. I watch a squirrel run down the trunk of one, only to climb up one of the statues lining the front of the tr ibal hall.

“Who are those statues of?” I point at the one with the squirre l atop it.

“The six members of the first tribal council.” That makes sense. We’ve got something similar in our town square with Lutheria’s founders. “Look, we can get some water before we start the run back.” Sir nods his head in the direction of a well near the center of the park and lead s us over.

There’s a bucket, but no cups or anything so we just use our hands. The first mouthful of cold water after a workout always tastes amazing. Ironstorm fills a second bucket after we finish most of the first, and when I’m feeling rehydrated, I plop down on the grass to finish resting. Leaning back against the well, I see a group of a dozen or so orcs, men and women, playing a game of football. I mean, I guess it’s probably not “football,” but it’s close enough. Everyone is trying to kick a round ball between two sets of goal posts made from tree branches stuck in the ground. I do notice some of the orcs tackling each other and even grabbing and running with the ball, which is different.

“Would you like to play?” The question comes from above, making me rais e my head.

“...Could we?” I’m not sure they’d want some human forcing his way into t heir game.

He walks forward at my question, calling out to the group when they are between plays. Words are exchanged, and a thumb is swung back in my direction which gets me to stand. After what looks like a nod of agreement, Ironstorm turns back to me with a smile on his face. I meet him halfway, and he removes the cuff from my wrist.

“They are happy to have more players.” He walks with me toward the group, who have paused the game for us. “The game is call rug’bal. The objective of the ga me is to—”

“Get the ball between the two sticks?” I mean I know it’s not football, but it’s still football. “One question: can we u se hands?”

He gives me an amused look, hopefully because he finds my enthusiasm charming. “It can be grabbed, and you may run while holding it, but not pass it forward by throwing, only kicking. Also be aware: if you are in possession of the ball, you can expect close contact from the other team.” He points at one of the goals. “That is your team’s goal. They are the ones without shirts, so you will need to remo ve yours.”

“We aren’t on the same team?” I’m a little surprised, but that’s fine with me. I’ll kick his t eam’s ass.

“I thought it might be more fun this way.” He smirks before joining his team on their side of the makesh ift field.

I pull the shirt over my head, tossing it under a tree where it looks like the others are keeping theirs. The women on my team seem to be wearing a thin wrap around their tops, which seem less for covering up and more for holding things in place. I’ve seen Liss using something similar. I make my way to the group of sweaty shirtless orcs, which is something else to repress, I guess. A few of the orcs give me a smile when I join them, but most give me a look that says “what is this human goi ng to do?”

Things start up again quickly. Two players meet in the middle and fight for control of the ball when it is tossed in the air. I have no idea what the score is, but I don’t really care; I just want to play. I hang back at first, watching the rhythm of the other players and seeing who to watch out for. It’s not too difficult to pick up on who the best players are—they’re the ones being passed to the most. Ironstorm is actually pretty good and seems to assimilate right into his team. I do not have the same luck. I can’t really blame them. I probably wouldn’t trust the scrawny looking new g uy either.

So I’ll just have to prove myself to them. I start moving more infield, keeping my eyes on the opposing players. No one from the other team is bothering to guard me, so when the ball is passed in my direction toward another orc, I use some of my newfound speed to sweep in and steal it. I start moving down the field immediately, hearing a grunt of confusion followed by some cheers behind me.

I don’t take the ball all the way, too many bodies between me and the goal, but I do kick it right to one of my teammates who manages to score himself. I hear another cheer and get a clap on the shoulder. I keep this up, and after I manage to steal the ball for the third time, the other team finally starts to take me seriously. I stole that last one from Captain Ironstorm himself. I actually heard him laugh when I cut in fro nt of him.

Following that, the rest of my team starts to actually pass to me, which also means there is an orc actually guarding me now, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. The size of some of these guys must make me look like a halfling in comparison, and I have to dodge more than a few tackles. I remember how well trying to tackle Sir in the ruins worked out for me, so I stick wit h dodging.

No idea what the score is still, but things have seemed pretty even between us so far. You can feel the competitive energy rolling off the players, and the little shoulder bumps I’m getting after I do something good are pretty nice. This is a lot of fun and something I’m not sure I realized I was missing b efore now.

I mean, I can and have sparred with Adam and Liss since leaving home, but sports? Football, racing, wrestling, all of those typically require more people, or at least people who are just as interested in doing them as you. I miss competing: the thrill of winning, the challenge of an unknown opponent, the satisfaction of being on a team you know has your back.

“This is the last round,” Ironstorm calls to me from his side of the field. “Score is tied, so whichever team makes the next goal wins the game.”

“We have this won,” one of the orcs on my team says to me in Common, a confident smirk on her face. I give her a nod, because yeah, I th ink we do.

The ball is tossed up, and the two orcs at center immediately skirmish for control. It looks like the other team wins, just for a minute, before that player is tackled to the ground, and one of my other teammates sweeps in to take the ball. He starts moving up field with the rest of us fanning out behind him. The ball is passed back once, and then twice between my team, each of us guarded very closely by the others. Still, I can see the guy with the ball getting closer and think we might actually have a chance.

Of course, that’s right when he gets tackled, and it’s Ironstorm who manages to steal the ball back. I see him a few yards ahead of me, starting to move it back up the field toward their own goal. None of my teammates are close to him, but the confident orc from a minute ago is only a few feet awa y from me.

“Can you tackle him? I have an idea,” I ask and she nods quickly. I give her a small head start before running straight at the captain. He sees me coming of course, another smirk on his face as he gets ready to sid e-step me.

And that’s when the other orc slams into him.

It doesn’t send him to the ground, but it does knock him off balance, the two of them evenly matched. It’s more than enough for me. Distracted by the orc at his side, he barely has time to register me rapidly closing the distance between us. I drop into a slide at the last minute, aiming for the ball and shooting it straight between both their legs. The ball goes flying and with no one in the way to stop it, soars right between the goal posts, ricocheting off a tree behind it.

The whole field breaks out into shouting, and the second I pick myself up from the ground, I’m being pulled in for a hug by the friendly female orc, followed by the rest of my team. The orcs who earlier didn’t want to take me seriously seem to enjoy taunting the other team with my presence. Even Sir looks impressed. I have no idea what any one is saying, but they’re all happy, so I can’t help but feel happy too.

“Good game,” the orc who helped me with the final play tells me over water. “I am Glasha. You are a good player—for a human.”

“Thanks, I think.” I reach out to take her hand. “I’m David. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well, David.” Then she turns to Ironstorm. “You managed to find a rather scrappy one, sir.”

“Thank you, Glasha.” I guess these two already know each other. “Everything going well in my absence?”

“Yessir,” she nods. “Business as usual.”

“Then I will see you and the rest of the station in four days.” Sir returns her nod. “Thank you for letting us join.”

“It was fun. You should play with us more often, Captain.” She gives a small salute before she makes her exit. “See you in four d ays, sir.”

“Sir? You got another slave or something, Captain?” I find myself teasing, still feeling the rush of my recen t victory.

“She is one of my rangers,” he answers wit h a smile.

“Why haven’t you been at work, anyway?” It is a little weird how he’s basically been home for the last t hree days.

“I was given the week off after winning our match to ensure you settled into things alright,” he explains. “That was very impressive at the end there, pup. Did you play something like this at home?”

“A little. No hands or tackling but the same general idea.” I flash a cocky smile. “Don’t feel too bad. I was pretty great over t here too.”

“Is that so? Care for another challenge?” He hands me my shirt.

“What are you thinking?” I admit I am intrigued after m y victory.

“A race back to the house.” I turn to look in the general direction we came from. “Do you think you can remember how to g et there?”

“I think so.” I’m pretty good with directions, but hold on a minute... “Wait, like, no leash? You trust me en ough now?”

“Between the running and the game, if you did decide to make another escape attempt, I think you would be too tired to get very far.” He considers me for a moment. “ Can I t rust you?”

“Yes.” I nod quickly. “ Yes, Sir.”

“Alright then.” He turns to face the side of the park closer to the house. “First person to touch the front d oor wins.”

“What does the winner get?” The question is out of my mouth before I even think about it.

“Oh, is this a wager now?” He smiles. “Winner gets to take the firs t shower.”

“Sounds fair.” That’s a lot tamer than I was expecting. Not that I’m disappointed or anything.

“Okay.” He crouches into a runner’s stance . “Ready?”

“Ready.” I copy him.

“GO!”

We both take off from the well with him in a slight lead. As we exit the park and make our first turn, I edge my way closer. I don’t try to overtake him—not yet at least. I’m fairly confident I know my way back to the house, but just in case, I want to keep my eyes on him. It’s also just common sense that you don’t blow all your energy at the start of a race. Got to save it and then pour it all into the last leg.

We seem to be a pretty even match, or at least we’re both good at pacing ourselves. At one point, I move behind him and start using his large form as a windshield. That only lasts a few minutes though, and when he realizes what I’m doing, he slows down and forces me to go around him. After that, we’re pretty much neck and neck until we make one last turn onto the street I know the ho use is on.

When I see a familiar looking fence in the distance, I know we’re in the home stretch and I book it, using all the energy I’ve been conserving until now to sprint forward. It looks like he had a similar idea, but it’s not enough to keep me from pulling ahead. My feet skid against the dirt when I reach the edge of the yard, almost losing my balance as I try to pivot for the door. It’s just another one, two, three strides, and my hand is on the wood.

“I WIN!” I shout to the sky and then immediately bend over, hands on my knees as I catch my breath.

“Good job, puppy,” the equally out of breath orc congratulates a moment later, leaning against the fence. “Before we go inside, I want to show you something.” He has me follow him around to the back of the house, where attached to one of the walls is a series of stone pipes. “There are a number of underground rivers running under the city. Thanks to them as well as some orc ingenuity, the enchantments on the pipes mean we are able to enjoy a nice hot shower without having to heat the water o urselves.”

I stare at the crisscrossing pipes coming up from the ground and disappearing into the wall, a little in awe. I don’t think have anything like that back home, not even the really rich people. Some places like the academy had plumbing to bring water inside, but all the bathrooms were still outside, and we had to heat our water the old-fashioned way, on a stove or over a fire. Imagine never running out of hot water for cooking or cleaning or whatever else you might need, not to mention being able to use the bathroom inside! I am already looking forward to that shower when we walk back around to the front. “If you had told me it was a hot shower, I would have run even faster. Do all your houses h ave this?”

“No, it was not until I was around ten that I lived in a home with plumbing.” Yeah, I’m jealous. “It is a fairly recent invention. Maybe forty years old? At the time, there was a pair of orcs who had spent some time in an elven city with a similar system. After they returned, they devised a system of our own and began what I understand has since become a fairly lucrative business. Most public buildings have already been converted, and much of the rest of the city is on a wait ing list.”

“Wow.” Who knew there was money in makin g toilets?

We start walking back around to the front while Sir fishes out his keys to unlock the door. Once we’re inside, I can really feel the sweat-soaked clothes sticking to my skin. I start pulling my shirt off while being led to the bathroom, before we’re even in the room. He pushes the door open and walks over to the tub, bending over and showing me how the k nobs work.

“The left is hot and the right is cold. There is soap right there and towels under the wash basin.” He turns and smiles at me before making his exit. “I will see you when you are finished.”

I’m not sure why I do what I do next. Maybe it’s because he’s taking me to see my friends tomorrow, or maybe I’m worried that he won’t. Maybe it’s the day of training catching up with me, or because it feels like he might actually care sometimes. Maybe I’ve just lost my mind, but for whatever reason, I open my mouth and say...

“Together.” The single word is blurted out, making him pause. Let’s try a full sentence now, David. “We could shower together, I mean. To sa ve water.”

“To save water.” A smirk spreads slowly across his face. “Are you certain?”

“I... Yes.” I shift awkwardly but appreciate him going along with the flim sy excuse.

“Alright. Hand me your clothes and turn on the water.” He begins removing his own shirt. “I will be ri ght back.”

I strip off the rest of my clothing as requested, which Khazak takes into the bedroom while I turn around and start the shower. I don’t know how hot he likes it, but I think I remember what the water felt like the first time we showered...among other things. I’m testing the water with my hands when he rejoins me, body naked like mine. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening in the light in contrast to his coarse, dark body hair.

Before I’m caught staring too much, I step into the wooden tub, leaving room for him to join me. It’s a bit of a squeeze—this isn’t nearly as big as our last shower—but we manage. Things are a little awkward at first, though it’s more the “whoops, didn’t mean to bump into you” kind of awkward. There’s a lot more giggling than I would have expected for two grown men in a shower together.

Once we’re both wet and settled into a comfortable position (which ends up being with his body blocking most of the spray), he reaches for a jar of what I figure is shampoo once he pours some onto my head. He does the same for himself, lathering up his own hair quickly before moving on to mine. He’s not as fast, slower, sensual even, scratching my scalp gently with his fingers as he works. I close my eyes, both to avoid getting something in them and because it feels nice. He leans me forward when he’s finished, rinsing the suds away so I can see again.

Next, he grabs the soap and a sponge. Just like last time, rather than hand them to me, he starts washing my chest himself, his other arm around my waist to steady me. I’m expecting him to move to the rest of my body like last time, but instead, he places the sponge in my hand, then lifts it to his own chest.

“I thought I won the race?” I joke as he “helps” me scrub his own chest.

“Your punishment for throwing the crop earlier,” he reasons with me while wearing a lecherous smile, releasin g my hand.

I don’t complain, but I do give a knowing smirk when I take over the washing duties. I can do this. I run the sponge over the tattoo on his pec, the water dripping from over his shoulders and making the soap run down the lines of his muscles. I used to think I’d look like this one day, or at least close. Still might have if I had stayed at the academy. But it’s a lot of work. And calories.

I have him lift his hands to my shoulder when I move onto his arms. This has the added effect of opening up his armpit, the scent of his musk taking me back to the old locker room. It’s also having some other, newer effects on me that I’m really glad I didn’t know about before. Of course, that only makes things worse when I have to lean forward to clean the armpits themselves. My cock is pointing almost straight out, the head occasionally brushing against his thighs. He doesn’t mention it though.

I move down to his broad stomach. I can feel the muscles underneath the healthy layer of softness on top. I watch the soap run between the creases where his thigh meets his torso, to the left and right of his big green cock. It’s not as hard as mine, but it’s not fully soft either. I haven’t actually gotten a good look at it before. It’s thick, thicker than I am, and it certainly has a few inches on me in length too. He’s uncircumcised like I am, his partial erection causing some of his cockhead to peek through the hood. I stare at it, still too unsure to just reach out and touch it when a green hand gently grabs my wrist and moves i t forward.

The sponge presses against the side of his cock, and I see the appendage twitch in response. I tentatively scrub the sponge against his skin, dragging it over the top of his cock and through his pubic hair to bring it back down on the other side. Okay David, stop pussyfooting around. It’s ju st a dick.

I take hold of his shaft with my free hand and hear a sharp intake of breath. I slowly spread the soap up and down before lifting it and swiping the sponge along his sack. That earns me a shudder, and I drop the sponge so I can use both hands to wash him more thoroughly. His balls are heavy as I spread the soap around, his cock only growing harder. I’m not trying to jerk him off, but I’m also not not trying to jer k him off.

Still, there’s only so much I can do before it’s obvious I’m not just washing him anymore, so once he’s clean, I kneel down to pick up my discarded sponge. Looking up from there puts me face to face with his one-eyed monster and apparently that is finally enough for some of that good old-fashioned shame to kick in, forcing me to look away.

While I’m down here though, I start to scrub his legs. What? I want to do a good job. I steady myself against his leg, and I run the sponge up and down his thighs, even reaching around to wash the back for good measure. His calves are huge. By the time I’m finally done with his body, I feel like I’ve gotten a goo d workout.

“Good job,” Sir tells me as he helps me to my feet. “Get my back?”

He turns around to present his muscled back to me, with his equally muscular ass right below it. It’s covered in the same dark fur as the rest of him, his back less so. I set to work, scrubbing all the hard-to-reach places you can’t get on your own. When I reach his lower back, I hesitate before going lower. I’ve never washed another man’s ass before. I mean, I’ve never washed another man’s dick before today either, but this feels different.

“Getting shy on me now, puppy?” the orc taunts me over his shoulder.

I’ll sho w you shy.

I run the sponge right down his ass crack. That gets me a small jump and a chuckle, and now that I’ve jumped into the deep end, it feels like I can just wash him like a normal person. I scrub each of his cheeks, individually and in between, liking the way they bounce a little more than I would have anticipated. I think about delving my fingers in like I did on the other side, but that feels like it might be crossing a line, and I have no idea how I’d even ask about that. Thankfully, he starts to turn around when I pause, having deemed my work complete.

“Thank you for that, puppy.” The timber of his voice sounds very relaxed. “Y our turn.”

Taking the sponge from me, he applies more soap before repeating the process on me. When he pulls my body against his, I am again reminded of our previous shower encounter, and I can’t help but push into his hand a little when it reaches my crotch. He drops the sponge just as I did, wrapping his large green fingers around my cock, which is as hard as I’ve ever felt it. I gasp a little, but before I can make any more noises, his mouth i s on mine.

I groan when his tongue swipes against my lips, opening them much more eagerly than I did then. He continues to slowly stroke me as he kisses me deeply, and I’m soon humping into him while pressing my tongue back into his mouth. His hand moves down to my sack, squeezing gently while the hand at my back moves down to my ass and does the same. After a few more minutes of kissing and groping—or seconds, or hours, I honestly have no idea—he retrieves the sponge and finishes washing my lower half. He shows none of the hesitation that I did, and I whimper when a finger brushes over my hole. He stands and kisses me again, switching our positions so the water can rinse the soap from our bodies. I whine into his mouth when he continues to tease my hole until he pulls away wit h a smirk.

“I believe I still owe you a reward for saving Mrs. Skycaller’s daughter from that runaway cart.” He brings a hand up to my face and traces his thumb alon g my chin.

“I... I guess you do.” I think I get the implica tion here.

Still smiling, he reaches behind me to shut off the water before carefully stepping out of the tub and onto a fur mat. He grabs a large, fluffy towel from under the sink, turning to wrap it around my head and upper body, drying me as quickly and efficiently as he can. My hair is still wet, but I can sense the urgency in hi s motions.

“Bedroom” is the only word spoken when Sir helps me out of the tub before using the same towel on himself. I nod and make my way to the location requested with him right behind me. I pause when I reach the bed, turning around when I’m not sure what t o do next.

“On your back.” His hand pushes gently against my chest, and I fall back onto the bed. My cock hits my stomach with a wet slap . He leans down and grabs a hold of my wrists, pinning them by my sides. “You are to keep these here. Un derstood?”

“Yes, Sir.” I nod quickly as he lowers himself to his knees, spreading my legs as he does. Just when I think I know what he’s going to do, he hooks his hands under my legs and lifts them, pushing them toward my chest.

Wait, what is he about to —oo hhhmygods!

“Fuck.” I fist the sheets under my hands tightly when his warm tongue slide across my hole. I look down just to verify that he’s doing what I think he is, that his mouth is on my ass. I can’t stifle a moan when I feel the tongue a second time, my hands gripping even tighter. I didn’t know this was a thing people did. I know I just got out of the shower, but this feels like it should be dirty. Not that I’m doing anything to stop him when the tongue returns for the third, fourth, or fift h times...

His oral technique changes before long, his mouth pressed more tightly to my skin. I feel his tongue prodding at my entrance at the same time as his tusks scratch gently against the backs of my thighs. They feel blunter than I would have guessed, though the way they scrape against my skin still makes me shudder. I look down, locking eyes with the orc, the hunger behind them evident. Appropriate too, given what h e’s doing.

He pushes more of his tongue into my hole, the wet appendage stretching me as it sinks in, leaving me feeling slightly empty when it pulls back out. I bite my lip and turn my head to the side, wishing I could just bury my face into the mattress and scream. This feels so fucking good. My dick is hard and leaking against my stomach, and without thinking, I reach my hand toward it, just to relieve some of the pressure.

“ No, ” a voice growls and the offending appendage is grabbed as he drops my legs to his shoulders. “What d id I say?”

“Not to move them. Sir,” I add on, hoping to get him to continue.

“Hold these.” He pushes my thighs back to my chest, moving my own hands to grip them instead of his. “Move them again and I stop,” he warns and lowers his face to my hole once more. “You are to let me know when you are close, but you may not cum without permission. Un derstood?”

“Yes, Sir!” I nod quickly. Pleeeaaasse keep goin g, please.

Satisfied, he begins to work again, pressing his tongue back into my hole. The warm wetness soothes my sore muscles, muscles I didn’t even know could be sore before a couple of days ago.

Fuck.

I don’t even try to suppress a moan when one of Sir’s hands reaches up to wrap around my cock. Looking down, I see that his eyes are closed, the shoulder on his other arm moving as he works his o wn length.

If this is the reward for saving a kid’s life, I need to do more of that. The rhythm of his hand working up and down my shaft soon matches the rhythm of his tongue fucking in and out of my ass. My body wants to push back onto his face and hump up into his hand at the same time, torn between the sensations. I met this man only two days ago, and he already knows how to play my body like an instrument. I’m not going to last mu ch longer.

“I-I’m getting close,” I announce, looking down for further instruction. I receive none, eyes still closed and the pace he’s toying with my body at staying steady. “Sir? C-c an I cum?”

“Not yet.” The mouth is torn away from my hole for a second so he can answer and is then immediately replaced.

I look down with wide eyes at a face that is not looking back at me. No ?! But if he keeps... If I... What the hell am I suppos ed to do?!

“Sir? Please?” I ask again, receiving no answer but seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. There’s still no stopping, and I’m still getting closer to an edge I’m not sure I can stop myself from spilling over. “Sir? Captain? Please, I-I’m going to cum. Please, can I cum? Sir?! Please?!” The asking quickly turns to begging as the questions pour out of my mouth.

“Cum for me, puppy.” The order comes after a few more seconds of jerking and tongue fucking and a split second before I blow my load all over my stomach and chest.

I moan, or at least try to when I start to cum. It’s very high pitched and maybe comes out more like a squeal—I don’t know. My brain’s not working right now, having been shot out of my dick and sprayed all over my chest. The hand wrapped around me continues to stroke and the tongue in my hole continues to fuck, even as I clench around it uncontrollably. I think some of my cum hit my neck. All I can see is white, or black or...fuck I d on’t know.

What’s happening?

Slowly, things come back into focus, and I see the blurry green form between my legs standing. He swipes some of the cum from my stomach, wrapping the slick hand around his own dick. I hear him curse in Orcish as he jerks himself over my body, chest and stomach sweaty and breathing deeply as he works. With a roar, his cock explodes, painting my body and adding his own sticky seed to mine. He stands over me, chest heaving and hard dick still bouncing, the both of us riding an endorphin high even greater than we got from all the running today. I look down at my body, covered from thigh to neck in white.

“I think I’m gonna need another shower,” I say, too worn out to keep the stupid grin off my face as I look over my body and up to him. The same stupid grin on his tells me he agrees.