5. Orlagh

FIVE

Sweet sunrise,what am I doing?

Even though we've been keenly aware of each other's existence for two years, well… technically, we've just met. And Rok is my neighbor, I… I can't start fucking my neighbor, especially one who literally lives right next door to me.

But, if I'm being honest… he's always been a bit more than a neighbor in my mind, and he's definitely more than that now, isn't he? Now he's my next-door neighbor and a new acquaintance and he's been my cam partner and he's been my big, green, hunky hero tonight—not once, but twice.

All those things together add up to a whole new level of complication and a fresh influx of panicky pondering over these ridiculously intense feelings he's inspired, over what it is that's really drawing me to him.

Is it really just sex this time?

My track record has me thinking that it is, as does the fact that we also already sort of totally hooked up after the cameras turned off and it's left me wanting so, so much more. But… I can't shake this feeling that there is more, or at least the potential for more. Something I can't quite put my finger on.

It feels different from the giddy impulsivity of my other relationships, that's for sure. But part of me always thinks that, right?

There's just something about the way my breath catches when he holds my gaze, about watching that sweet, lopsided smile of his curl around his smooth, thick tusks… I kind of… love that smile. The one that follows mine, the one that crinkles the corners of his bright blue eyes until they're liquid and sparkling, a perfect cerulean sea.

Ugh.

I should have called Brix or Lhysa tonight, should have booked a nice riverfront hotel in Oldtown, but instead I'm here; alone in Rok's troll-sized bed, barely dressed, plotting the best way to get his big, muscular body in here beside me, on top of me, beneath me… I'm not picky.

Behind me?

Oh goddess, yes, behind me…

Yep, there is no question about what my body wants to do with him, especially after hearing the way he defended me, after seeing him scoop my ex up and bodily force him down the hall as easily as if he had been a poorly mannered teacup yorkie who tinkled on the doormat. But what I want to do with Rok and what I should do with him are two entirely different things, so here I am, laying in his bed, caught in the middle of this heated standoff between my body, my heart, and my brain.

I groan in frustration and stretch my arms out as wide as they'll go—still nowhere even near reaching the edge of the bed—and enjoy the slide of the cool, grey fabric beneath my fingers. His sheets are so soft, borderline luxurious, even. What would it feel like to slide between them with my legs wrapped around Rok's soft middle, nails dragging down his strong back? Would I be able to keep these slippery sheets fisted in my hands, keep from drooling all over them as I was sobbing and keening, keep my knees from sliding out beneath me while he railed me from behind?

I stifle a moan, squeezing my thighs together for friction as I imagine buckling under the force of his snapping hips, imaging sliding and scrambling until the only thing keeping me from falling flat on my stomach are his thickly muscled arms and those warm, rough hands gripping my hips, keeping me skewered on the enormous cock he'd buried deep inside me. I'd seen the outline of that monster in his criminally thin sweats, seen it wriggling beneath the soft leather breeches he wore during our scene, felt it's hard, heavy heat against me, especially as I'd straddled his strong, unyielding thigh there at the end of our scene. And I had to wonder…

Would it even fit?

I fight the urge to skate my hand down my stomach as I imagine him filling me, stretching me. Sweet sunbeams, just thinking about why I shouldn't masturbate in his kindly offered bed really, really makes me want to masturbate in his kindly offered bed. My hands slide over my breasts, nipples hard, desperate to drag eager fingers through my damp curls as a terrible gnawing emptiness inside me grows, a desire, a need stronger than anything I've ever felt.

He'd be able to smell me though, wouldn't he? Oh goddess, maybe he already can. Does it drive him as crazy as his scent drives me? Because, sun above, the scent of him… it's all around me and he smells amazing, like everything good and perfect: sun-kissed skin, blood oranges, woodsmoke. And something else, something that appeals to me more than I can say, something that's just undeniably… him.

What's… what's wrong with me?

Maybe it's just that I can still feel his tusks grazing my neck, his thick, rough tongue in my mouth. Maybe it's just that I can still hear the hungry growls he made as we kissed and the raspy, reverent rumbles that escaped him in response to every one of my moans. And maybe…

Maybe it's time to stop worrying about what the right and wrong thing to do is here and just be honest with myself, because if I am… I know I never had any intention of taking the kind hospitality of the orc next door, of sleeping in his big bed all alone while he camped out on the couch, of letting logic rule over desire.

When Ulrich asked me if I had a place to go and I turned my eyes to Rok, I knew exactly what I was doing, what I wanted to do, what I was going to do.

I'd fantasized about all the sexy possibilities the night might have in store for us the whole time my orc in shining armor had stood sentinel in the hall, waiting patiently while I stuffed an overnight bag with a few toiletries and a change of clothes for work. When Wolf started his drunken assault on my door I'd been in the shower, had pressed myself against my door and listened to every word of his exchange with Rok while I was wrapped up in my big fluffy bathrobe, so I'd also needed to pick out some pajamas.

I was breathless as I'd stood at my dresser, picking at my nails, teetering on the edge of a decision as I looked at my options. At the knee-length, sensibly striped cotton nightdress on one side, and the ass-length, sheer-without-being-totally-see-through cream colored nightdress on the other. The one that would send one message, and one message only.

And in the end I hadn't slipped into the planning-on-keeping-my-hands-to-myself striped dress beneath my robe… I'd slithered into the sheer one, biting back a self-satisfied smile all the while.

I'm out of his bed before I can think about it anymore. I'm not going to lie in here all alone all night and just think about him, about my feelings. That's why I'm here and not with friends—I'm here because I want him, and honestly… I've wanted him for a while.

My hands shake a little as I twist the giant doorknob with both hands, inching the bedroom door open to peer down the hallway. Flashing lights flit through the crack, cascading across the grey stillness of his bed now that I'm not tossing and turning inside it. I slink out, moving down the hall towards the living room, the source of the light, and the low rumble of his laughter. He must be watching something, playing a game?

"Oh hell, how many raids have you missed? How many shows? Give me a fuckin' break, Haf."

His apartment is surprisingly clean and open. All blacks and grays with sleek, stark lines, but somehow the space is still incredibly warm and welcoming for an obvious bachelor pad. A gigantic TV dominates the wall in front of me, as well as a number of consoles on a floating shelf beneath it.

Rok is sitting with his back to me in the middle of his humongous leather sectional, wearing those infamous sweats and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, an orc-sized controller in his hands. One of those bulky headsets with flashing LED lights that match the ones on his controller is snug over his bluntly pointed green ears so he doesn't hear my approach, thank Solstra. His dark hair curls over them, as endearingly messy as ever, and there's a woven blanket over his shoulders that looks decidedly old and Orcish. A sickly sweet artisanal ginger beer from a very recognizable brand is on the coffee table in front of him beside an enormous bowl of what I assumed were potato chips at first glance but appear to be crystalized pineapple rings, of all things.

"I don't owe you assholes shit. Y'all got through it."

He grabs the bottle and tilts his head back, taking a swig. I watch the pillar of his throat move with each gulp, remembering the way my golden hands looked sliding up that thick green neck, how the rumble in his chest seemed to vibrate through my bones, the way I'd inexplicably glowed...

Okay, I'm starting to feel like I'm being a creep.

Am I being a creep?

Yeah, I'm definitely being a creep.

Rok sets his drink down, shaking his head and chuckling. "Alright, alright, alright. I'll tell you what I was up to."

My heart turns leaden, sinking in my chest and stopping me mid-step. I stand there behind the couch, frozen, staring at the back of his head with my breath held fast.

Was he really about to tell his gamer buddies about what we did tonight? Not that it was a secret, but… well, I don't know. I just didn't think he was that kind of orc. I thought maybe this intense, irrational, borderline psychotic desire consuming me was actually fate, or luck, or even Solstra leading me toward something that was different, someone that was different, for once.

"I was minding my own fucking business, Kyle. Now, we gonna play or you both just gonna run your mouths while we get our asses handed to us?"

And just like that, my hummingbird heart takes wing once more, able to breathe, able to keep nurturing this burgeoning little fantasy of mine where he and I are destined to be more than neighbors, cam partners, friends, that Solstra herself is totally beaming down on us from above, merrily weaving our lives together with shining threads of soulbound sunlight like some kind of old folk tale.

I finish slinking into the room, making my way around the couch towards the kitchen as I try to decide on a plan of attack, the weight of his gaze trailing my ass all the while.

My fingers tremble as I flip on the light switch and turn back to him, aiming for casualness even though everything underneath my nightdress is now on display and I'm pretty sure my voice is going to shake worse than my hands are, adrenaline and desire coursing through me like a fire in my blood.

Rok's reaction does not disappoint and definitely helps bolster my confidence back up. His eyes linger in all the places I was hoping they would, smoldering beneath his heavy, ridged brow while his mouth opens ever-so-slightly, that full lower lip loosening around his tusks.

The leather couch makes an awkward squeak as he scoots forward, mouth still open. He reaches up to take off his headset as he moves to stand, but I put up a hand and shake my head before he can get all the way up.

"No, no, sit. Keep playing, I just want some water. Glasses?" The last word comes out a little quivery, but all in all I think I'm holding it together.

"Top right, by the, uh, sink." He smiles at me sort of dazedly for a moment before he shakes his head and lets the headset fall back into place, eyes rolling as he turns back towards the television. "Why the fuck would I be telling you where I keep my cups, Haf? I—don't fucking worry about who, worry about your six, up top. Keep getting sniped by those fucking archers."

Everything is just a little bit bigger in his kitchen. Taller counters, bigger knobs on the faucet and handles on the cupboards, a broom nearly as tall as I am resting in the corner. I've known plenty of individuals outside my species, but I've never actually been in an apartment or home built for someone bigger than me, which, now that I think of it, is pretty embarrassing in a city like Galtree. Still, I can't help but feel a little thrill run through me as I get on tiptoe and stretch to reach a glass from the cabinet, and then another as the hem of my nightdress rides up my hip, exposing the bottom of my bare ass. I say a quick prayer to Solstra for Rok to be watching, for this flimsy slip to continue doing what I had hoped it would when I chose it over the more sensible set of pajamas earlier, and then a quick follow up one apologizing for flooding her with all these selfish requests revolving around my sex life.

Solstra doesn't seem to mind because she delivered, or at least I'm pretty sure she must have, because when I make my way back to the living room with my water, he isn'tlooking at me. In fact, he's trying very hard not to look at me at all and appears to be super concentrated on checking the batteries of his controller.

Walking behind the sectional and around to the other side, I settle gingerly into the corner beside him, close but not too close, and tuck my feet beneath me. When the cool leather slides against my bare thighs, I can't help but shiver at the sensation, at the memory of his hands sliding along them and gripping my hips earlier, at the nearness of his literally and figuratively hot body now. The warmth radiating from his skin is intoxicating, inviting, calling to me just like the sun does. It reminds me of solstice on the shore, of lying back in the warm sand while the sacred sun kisses my bare skin; one of the only things I miss about Fair Isle, really.

I imagine spending cold winter nights on this couch, nestled into the crook of this big, strong, green furnace with that blanket he has over his shoulders thrown over the both of us, limbs twined beneath it, maybe that friendly cat of his—who I'll just have to convince him to bring inside, since I spotted a tiny kitty igloo on his balcony—curled up on our laps. Of bumping hands in a big orc-sized popcorn bowl as we watch a movie, or just lying against him while he plays something and I read, looking up at him every so often to enjoy the serious, steady look on his face when he gets lost in his game just as he is now.

Rok's still leaning forward so I have the perfect view of his striking profile, of the almost suede-like texture of his evergreen skin and the sharp slope of his nose, much flatter than mine, nostrils naturally flared. Of the fullness of his lips and the ivory sheen of the thick tusks jutting out proudly from them.Not to mention the muscular forearms sticking out from under his blanket, dusted with the same dark hair as the messy coal-black waves falling into his ocean blue eyes, just as his chest had been, as the dark trail of hair leading blissfully lower had been as well.

He keeps moving his head this way and that as he looks around the screen, the ridges on his sloping forehead growing even more prominent as they furrow in concentration, and even though he looks kind of dorky with his mouth slightly ajar and his tusks twitching with every movement of his lips… he's still the most handsome creature I've ever laid eyes on. More so, seeing this normal, nerdy side of him in his natural habitat—a natural habitat that could hold up to one of my mother's white glove inspections, I might add.

"Two rounds left, Kyle. You gonna maybe get your head out of your ass and play one of ‘em?"

The good natured trash talking continues and I smile as I listen to his side of it, letting my eyes wander around the apartment, drawn to the floating shelves and shadow boxes peppered artfully across the walls. Several figurines are on display, as well as a number of books. I recognize several classic fantasy titles he has and even some of the comics.

One figurine in particular catches my eye, and I set my glass of water down on the mahogany coffee table to get up and take a closer look.

Goosebumps break out across my skin as I feel his eyes on me again, because I know every flash from that TV gives him an up close and personal view of ev-er-y-thing, from my hardened nipples to the small, soaked thatch of pale orange curls between my legs.

When I get to the shadowbox, I see that it is, in fact, the comic heroine I based Zoya off of in all of her ginger glory. I look over my shoulder at him, smiling as I point to the collectible.

"Hey, don't I know her from somewhere?"

Rok flashes his tusks in one of those lopsided smiles I love, blue eyes dancing with amusement as he starts to respond before getting torn back to the screen. I can hear the swearing and screaming in his headphones from across the room as he pulls one of the earpieces away from his head.

"Oh fuck this, I'm done playing with your drunk asses. Give Jenny my best, Kyle, and get the fuck to sleep so you don't miss work cause I ain't covering if you do, Haf. I'm out."

He takes his headset off, turning back to me with a deep breath, that adorably lopsided grin pulling me in again. "Yeah, I… well, there wasn't much time. Should have told you I was such a fucking nerd. Thought the LARP weapon would have given it away, though."

"Oh, I've known you had to be a big old nerd for a looong time," I say, returning his smile as I settle myself back down on the couch, taking up my water so my idle hands have something to do. "I'm pretty sure since… oh! It was when I was moving in, actually. You were wearing this shirt with a three-headed dragon logo and some very familiar house words on them, and I almost said something, but Wolf…"

"Oh, I remember. Fondly, actually, except for the Wolf part."

"Yeah, me too."

We fall into silence as he turns off the TV, and despite the air between us being so thick that it's making my skin prickle and itch, it's not an uncomfortable one. I don't think he's made me feel uncomfortable once, like… ever.

Maybe a little bit earlier, when he'd noticed my shitty apartment repairs, but that was more my fault than his. After everything that had happened tonight—the things he'd said to Wolf, how quick he was to run to my defense, how there wasn't a moment of hesitation before offering me his bed and assuring me he'd stay on the couch—it seemed clear that I'd misunderstood his reaction, misinterpreted his intent.

"So, uh… pretty late for a sun elf. You a night owl, Orlagh?"

A slow smile creeps across my lips, matching his own. I run a finger absently around the rim of my glass, eyes drifting down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more.

"Sometimes. I mean, I already couldn't sleep before my ex showed up. And then after, well…"

Rok leans back, leaving his controller on the sleek wooden coffee table beside his headset, bottle now in hand. Whether he realizes it or not, I couldn't say, but he's giving me an incredibly enticing view of his broad pecs and the sexy belly below.

"Makes two of us. Wild night."

"Yeah, you could say that."

The hem of my nightdress is suddenly super interesting, and he's drawn to my mouth as I worry at my lip.

"Did you really bail on your friends to help me out?"

"Dropped a couple eaves back there, huh?" he says with a smirk, popping two entire pineapple rings into his mouth as easily as if they'd been a couple of pretzels.

I duck my chin into my chest and smile, cheeks warming as I grimace a little and bite my lip even harder. "Maybe just a couple."

"I'm just teasing. And yeah, I did. But I made that choice, and honestly… well. I'd make it again in a heartbeat, is all."

"I'm, I…" My voice catches in my throat as our eyes meet again, heart feeling like it's about to burst, and not just because of how fast it's beating. "Well, I'm happy to hear that. Things went great, earlier. You were great. Really, really great."

He holds my gaze as he takes a swig of his ginger beer and then looks down at the bottle, picking at the label. "We do seem to work well together."

Work, right. Neighbor. Cam partner. I feel more than a twinge of regret as I recall that I was the one who went all false saccharine and business-y at the end of our scene, that it was me who reminded him of those labels, who basically told him he was employee of the month and tried to dismiss him with a gold star and a wad of cash on the way out. I know it's more than that for me now, and I think it's more than that for him, too, or at least it could be.

But even if I'm wrong and it was just work for him earlier… I mean, the best actors rehearse, right?

I think I've finally found my footing, a plan forming.

The leather creaks beneath me as I shift in my seat, uncurling my legs. I scoot a little closer to the middle of the couch where Rok is sitting and tuck them under myself again, knees now pointed towards him. "So.. would you… would you maybe want to work together again, then? I'm happy to renegotiate your rate…"

Rok sets his bottle back down as his gaze falls on my bare thighs, my knees now so close to him that I can feel an errant thread from his sweats tickling them.

"Sure, uh, but I wouldn't feel right about you paying me. Whatever you need, I'll do, though. What… what did you have in mind?"

"I've got a pretty active imagination and basically no inhibitions so…" He chokes down a cough, and I smile, eyebrow raised. "Why don't you tell me what you're comfortable doing on camera? I've always just touched myself, and sometimes there were toys involved, but… I'm open to suggestions."

He's silent for a few moments. I watch his chest rise and fall with every long, drawn out breath as he settles deeper into the cushions, placing one arm over the back of the couch, right behind me. Rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand, he brings his legs closer together, shifting his hips as he rests an ankle on his knee.

I glance down, down at those ridiculously thin sweats, and I'm rewarded with the sight of his impossible cock straining against them.

"Well, I liked what we did, as you can see. On and off camera, mind you."

When I look back up, he's staring at me, and we're both flushed. I can feel my runaway pulse in my cunt now, feel it fluttering in a maddeningly frantic rhythm, a silent siren song for his cock that's making me feel emptier than ever.

"Would you want to maybe… do more?"

That electrical current is alive, magnetic, arcing between us all over again. The cool leather of the couch is a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off of his body, the heat pooling between my thighs.His eyes devour me as my nightdress rides up my hip, threatening to further expose the bareness of my body beneath.

"How much more?" he rasps, muscles taut with tension.

That hypnotic heat between us calls to me, draws me in until I've closed the gap between our bodies at long last, nestling myself in the crook of his strong, solid shoulder. His arm comes down to my side at the same time, no hesitation, calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they slide along my waist and settle on my hip. I press myself against him and gaze up through my lashes, resting my arm on his soft, warm belly as my fingers tease through the light smattering of hair between his pecs.

"Kissing?"

His hot breath cascades across my lips when I crane my neck up towards his, and for a moment all I can think about are the almost comical differences between his mouth and mine; his full and fearsome, full of tusks and teeth and the thickest tongue I've ever tasted, and mine so small and simple in comparison, tongue thinner, longer, pointed at the tip, just like my ears are. Those tusks, that mouth, should be more difficult to maneuver around, should feel foreign and strange, but they didn't earlier tonight and I know there's no way that they will now.

I grasp his neck and pull him into me, eyes fluttering closed, breath coming fast. A wave of simultaneous relief and frustration runs through me once our lips crash together at long last, once his hand slides slowly up from my hip along my side, stopping between my shoulder blades to push me flush against him. His other arm envelopes me, cradling the back of my head as he deepens our kiss, and I melt into him with a moan, fingers raking through his messy hair, grabbing fistfuls of it.

Our lips become sloppy, greedy, and all I can think about is how natural this feels, how right, how I want more, more, more. Even when I straddle him, knees barely grazing the couch cushions, and my bare, wet cunt starts to grind against his hard cock through his thin sweats, it's still not enough.

We're panting when our lips finally part some minutes later, as he leans back, towering over me once again. His eyes stay closed for a moment before he looks at me through his long, dark lashes and I'm lost in those ocean-blue depths once more, warmed by the naked desire I see simmering within them.

"I can do kissing."

His words and that fire within his eyes embolden me, and I give myself over to the flames as my hand skates down his chest, over and then under his belly, slipping a finger into the waistband of his sweats and running it back and forth teasingly. Rok takes in a sharp breath, resting both of his arms across the back of the couch and tearing his gaze away from mine to watch the slow dance of my fingers with hungry, hopeful eyes.

"Touching?"

When I slide my hand beneath the waistband and grip his cock at long last, his brows draw together and he groans, leaning slightly forward to get a closer look at the slow, sinuous movement of my hand gliding up and down his shaft.

My fingers don't even touch around his girth, and the hot, velvety foreskin sheathing his shining cockhead moves beneath them easily, the pulsing of the thick, ridgelike veins writhing up the length of him increasing with every pass.

"I… can do touching."

When I free the entirety of his gargantuan cock from his pants, I can't help but gasp in surprise—hearing about an orc cock, seeing one in a video, can't do it justice.

Little pearls of seed are emerging all along his shaft, droplets of stark, creamy white against the dark, dusky green of him. I watch in fascination as they continue to weep from the minuscule, near imperceptible slits all along those twisting, wriggling veins that encourage the slide and glide of my hand. I grip him harder, gauging his reaction, smiling at the strained hiss that he gives me in response, at the seed now dripping from his glans as well.That thick stream of cum at the head of his cock is just begging to be licked, and I'm enraptured by it, eager to oblige, as I slide down off of his lap and land softly on my knees between his muscular thighs.

"What about tasting?"

The smooth, pinkish-green tip of his cock is dribbling cum now, and I press the tip of my tongue into the weeping slit, rewarded with an animalistic groan. I relish the feel of that thick, viscous cream surging against my tongue before swirling it around him, licking and sucking and taking him deeper and deeper until I'm licking up the cum seeping out all along his shaft too, until I'm practically choking on him, breathing noisily from my nose.

He tastes sweet and salty and sour and I want more, but he's already hitting the back of my throat; I can't even fit half of him in my mouth. It's not even the sizable length that has me stopping that soon, it's how incredibly thick he is.

I pull back, a string of spit and seed still connecting us as I drag my hand slowly up and down his length and offer him a soft smile.

His brows draw together again as he sucks air in through his tusks, "Godsdamn, Orlagh, that feels so fucking good. Yeah. I can do ta—oh, fuck—tasting."

My other hand is in the mix now, working his shaft as I lave my tongue all over his cockhead, feasting at the source, marveling at the sheer volume of white, gooey cream spilling from his cock now, still flowing from his glans and all along his length, still pearling anew after each pass of my hand.

Sun above, if there's this much of it now, what am I in for when he actually comes?

Only one way to find out.

My hands move to his heavy scrotum as I continue to suck and twirl my long tongue around the tip of his cock, dipping into his slit at random and relishing the guttural sounds he makes when I do. His sac is tight and hot, the skin there coarser, darker. I squeeze gently as I lift, enjoying the weight in my palms.

"Fuck Orlagh, you keep doing that and?—"

That admission was all the encouragement I needed.

I smile wickedly around his cock as I work him with my mouth and continue rolling his balls in my palms, massaging with firm fingers, feeling them tighten and pulse in my grip. Cum is dribbling down my chin, pouring out of the sides of my mouth and down along his shaft, coating my hands and now his weighty sac.

A choked moan rumbles through him as he comes. His whole body goes rigid, muscles taut, and I am nowhere near prepared for the amount of cum that floods my mouth, filling my throat, bursting out the sides and pouring over my lips as it gushes down my neck, running down between my breasts all the way to my navel.

I'm gasping for air when I pull back and so is he, both of us marveling at the sheer amount of his release covering my face and chest, soaking through the front of my thin nightdress.

There's a strange reverence in his eyes as he leans forward, breathing hard, taking my chin in his hand and turning my face from side to side, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across my lower lip.

"Godsdamn, sunshine. Look at you…"

His gaze is intoxicating, sending fae flutters through my stomach that have me beaming at him despite the wanton absurdity of my appearance, because he's regarding me as if I've just done him some great honor.

I avert my eyes, my smile softening.

"I guess a shower is in order for me…"

"Oh, no ma'am." He leans a little closer, his tusks inches from my sticky lips. "As I recall, we still have some unfinished business to attend to."

I swallow thickly, still tasting more of him than myself in my mouth, nipples hardening against my soaked nightdress.

"We do?"

His voice is a thick, low rumble, a whisper across my lips that's dripping with promise.

"We do."

I barely have time to shift back and rest on my hands as he rises to his feet, his sated cock swinging pendulously in front of my face with the movement. For an utterly mad moment I debate sticking out my tongue and licking it as it swings by, but then he's adjusting his pants and heading down the hallway.

A thick, fluffy towel is in his arms when he returns, which is thoughtful. Before I even think about exactly what it is I'm doing, I've got my poor excuse for a nightdress up and over my head, tossing it behind me. Even though there's still business to attend to, I am coated in an absolutely obscene amount of cum—though, truth be told, I… I rather like it. At least, I like that it's his. Like how sweet it smells, tastes, feels. Somehow it's still warm, still wet, and that filthy realization makes me all the wetter, too.

Rok slows as he takes in my naked form, gazing upon me as if I were Solstra herself. My nipples tighten even more in response, almost painfully, the slick mess between my thighs now rivaling the river of cum cascading down my body.

I smile in appreciation of his thoughtfulness as I rise onto my knees, reaching my hand out for the towel, but Rok just shakes his head and clicks his tongue, that searing gaze still raking all over every inch of me.

"Oh no, ma'am. Still plenty mess to be made."

He lays out the towel across the corner of the couch before scooping me up in his arms as if I weighed no more than that big fluffy bath towel he'd just lain out, as if he's about to carry me through a threshold and stake his claim on me.

"Now then. What about you, sunshine?"

"Me?" I squeak, brain going blank at the feel of my bare flesh sliding against his, at the waves of woodsmoke and citrus overwhelming my senses.

"Yeah, you. What about kissing?"

We stare at each other for a moment before he pulls me closer, closing the distance as his tongue invades my mouth, heedless of the seed that's… everywhere between us. I melt in his arms, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him… I couldn't tell you how long we stood there devouring each other. I could kiss him for hours, and judging by how much more raw and swollen my lips feel when we part, it's quite possible I've done just that.

I'm breathless when I smile at him, brushing a dark, curling strand of hair out of his blue eyes. "I can do kissing."

Rok sits me down on top of the towel, getting onto his knees in front of me. The breadth of his shoulders pushes my legs wide, splaying me open and laying me bare before him. When our lips crash together again his hand is between us, cupping the warmth between my thighs, and he growls at the slickness he finds waiting there.

"Touching?"

My breath is a shallow shudder as two of his fingers press into my folds and slowly circle my clit. His other hand finds my breasts, kneading and tweaking at my pebbled nipples before he presses his face to me, rubbing his tusks over the hardened peaks with a low, needy sigh before that fat, hot tongue joins in on his hungry attention.My back arches as I cry out, hips beginning to move with him, pressing forward to increase the friction of the torturously languid circles still sliding steadily over my clit. One of his thick green fingers slips inside me then, curling and stroking, and then another, and another. I throw my head back with a throaty sob, clenching around him, feeling deliciously full, knowing it's nothing compared to how divinely stretched I would feel with that cock driving into me.

"Oh, goddess, I'm…Rok please…"

"Beg all you want," he murmurs, smiling against my skin as he lavishes tusky kisses all over my breasts and neck. "Not gonna let you come until you answer."

"Wha… oh, y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Touching, yes. Please, yes!"

My hips buck faster as one of his fingers glides against one of the spongy little pads deep inside my channel, eyes fluttering closed again, every inch of me trembling and raw, so close, so close…

"Well, hang on now… what about tasting?"

Something akin to a scream of exasperation gurgles in my throat as his fingers withdraw, leaving me hanging almost painfully on the precipice of release. He grips my thighs, forcing my legs open wider as he leans forward, and the feel of my slick lips gliding down his muscular chest to his soft belly keeps me at the moment, still so close, so desperate to come.

"Yes. Taste me, please," I whine, my voice getting higher and higher, "now, Rok, now."

I'm almost angry as he pulls back and gives me one of his lopsided grins, totally enjoying every second of this torture, but then who cares because his tongue, sweet Solstra his tongue. Thick and hot, licking a long, flat stripe over my center until the tip flicks against my clit.

"Godsdamn sunshine," he whispers against my dripping slit, "you taste like summer rain."

Rok's tusks press into the crease of my thighs as he dives back in with an enraptured fervor that no partner of mine has ever had, the blunted tips of those tusks sliding up and down and digging delightfully into my skin with every pass of his tongue. He makes his own noises of pleasure as he feasts, growling and gripping my hips, and it doesn't take long until I'm shuddering all over again, until my screams crack into liberated sobs, until wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me, lighting up every nerve in my body until I'm boneless and gushing onto his tongue, all over his face, and he's lapping me up like I'm his last meal.

My release glistens all over his face and chest, the towel soaked beneath me, it's intended purpose now blissfully clear.

He takes me in his arms again, and the feeling is already so familiar, so soothing, that it fills me with a sweeter ache than the one throbbing between my thighs.

"Now… lets clean you up."

We go over our list of can-do's in the shower twice more before crawling into bed naked to check it one last time, and then snuggle close, where I fall asleep enveloped in his comforting warmth as he's stroking my hair.