Page 12 of Sacrificed to the Orc
Slipping the shirt over my head feels like immersing myself into a sea of fabric, my nose full of his smell. It drapes over me, cascading all the way to my feet. As I adjust the oversized garment, I catch his gaze again. He runs his huge red tongue over his fangs, watching me a little too closely.
“I know, I know, I look ridiculous,” I say, reaching down and massaging my ankle.
“It looks better on you than me,” he teases, his tone playful.
Is he…
Is he flirting?
A chill wind whistles through the small space between the packed snow of the avalanche and the root of the cave, making my skin goosebump under the woven shirt. I draw it closer against me, and I can’t help but look longingly at the warmth of his expansive fur coat. Askan reaches up, rubbing his eye below the bandage, blinking it open blearily. “Your kind feels the cold more than us. Do you want me to move?”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, and I sit down hesitantly at the edge of the fur coat. He is lying face down, his head turned to face me, resting his head on his arms. Damn, but his biceps are huge, his arms muscled and defined, every inch of him exuding raw power. I get a shiver through me, and it’s not just from the cold.
To my horror, he sniffs, and his eyes flash with desire. He can taste that little tendril of attraction that builds with every moment I spend with him.
I clear my throat, awkwardly, and lie down, scooching closer to him and cocooning myself in the edges of the fur. I’m not used to being so close to him. It’s both unfamiliar and comforting, and it makes my cheeks flush.
“You never answered me before. Why do you speak my language?” I finally venture, my voice a whisper in the cave’s deep silence. It feels rude to speak loudly.
Stretching his legs out, Askan releases a slow yawn, showcasing his ivory fangs for a moment. “When we are young, the shamans pick orc children. They teach us your words.”
“Why?”
“The way you express yourself, the nuances of your words…they reveal how you think. Humans have more words for treachery and lying than we do. To survive, we must understand your kind.”
I should feel insulted, but my village toils through the harvesting season, only to have a heavy tithe taken to us, the King’s wagons rolling in without horses to pull them, propelled by a power I cannot understand. They leave laden.
“Am I what you anticipated of humans?”
His eye is slowly opening, healing quicker than I expected, but they are still lidded from the stillroot. “Not in the slightest.”
“You’re not exactly how I thought orcs would be, either.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You haven’t eaten me yet.”
He licks his lips. “You do look particularly tender.”
“Tender? What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, feigning offense.
“It is only that the women of my tribe…they are sinewy, powerful, creatures with a savage beauty. You… you are femininity.” He breathes in, nostrils flaring, unable to resist tasting my scent once more, and it makes a frisson rush down my spine. He grunts, readjusting, and my cheeks flush red as I realize he’s moving to make his growing cock more comfortable as it surges up underneath him.
“That’s the other thing…”
“What?”
“Everything I heard of orcs. I thought you would have pinned me down and had your way with me.” There’s a dark sizzle to my voice. I can’t help myself. His power inflames me, every inch of his sculpted body, from his huge, tree-trunk legs, his firm, muscled ass, his broad back. The dark need is shameful, rippling up through me, making my nipples harden.
“What do your tattoos mean?” I ask, trying to change the topic. He shifts onto his side, resting with his head in his hand, and I get a view of his chest, covered in the gleaming black runes over his muscled physique. I can’t help but look down, between his legs, where his cock is rearing up, pressing against his loincloth, thickening insatiably.
He reaches out, curling his fingers around my wrist, gently, and bringing my hand to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat. The runes on his pec muscles seem to glow with their own power, not just reflecting the light. “These are my newest. Stealth and silence. Lur’sil,” he growls the unfamiliar word, the first one I have heard of his tongue, deep and guttural. “Mirrored.” Each runic tattoo is reversed on the opposite side of his chest. Twin crescent moons opposite each other, horns pointing downwards, twin black lines of dotted points descending downwards and fading. His broad shoulders and thick arms are covered by them, and he presses my hand downwards, tracing the black line, until my fingers are over his abs. They are hewn, and I bite my lip as I touch them. I watch in awe as the muscles ripple beneath his skin. Askan’s body is a work of art, every inch sculpted perfection.
He releases my hand, staring at me with heat in his eyes as his cock presses upwards, over his loincloth, thick and throbbing, hungering for me. The head is deeper, purplish, so big I can’t imagine how it would feel stretching me open, and with each pulse of his heartbeat, it spits creamy pre-cum, which drips down the shaft, coating it in the pearly white seed.
I can’t stop myself. I gently run my fingers down the side of his massive shaft, feeling the warmth of his manhood. I try to wrap my hand around it, but it’s too thick, this girthy, monstrous thing that is ravenous for me as he leans in and presses his lips against mine.
He pulls me closer to him, grunting in pain as he shifts, his huge hand gripping my ass possessively as he pulls me against him. He pulls the huge shirt upwards and slides his hand down the back of my pants, his huge fingers sliding against my naked flesh, his middle finger curling up and teasing my virgin slit. He can smell my sudden lust, feel my wetness, and I am so completely exposed, feverish, aching need filling me as I slide my hand up and down his thick shaft. My hand is coated in his creamy pre-cum, so slick, and I get the sudden image of that huge, monstrous cock ripping into me, stretching me open brutally and making me his forever.
