Finally, Varen’s body relaxed against his, and he realized the elf’s breathing had slowed to something more deep and even. Korik pulled back, an embarrassed flush returning to his face as he realized Varen’s hand was in his hair, fingers scratching soothingly against his scalp.
“You liked that,” Varen murmured, grinning. Korik flushed deeper, but nodded—there was no point in denying it. “Me too. I’ve never had—well,anythingthis big, and...” He trailed off, and this time, he actually looked embarrassed as he looked away. “That is... It was intense. Good.” He laughed, and added, “It’ll be hard to go back to anything smaller.”
Korik wanted to answer that he didn’t have to; that he would gladly let Varen ride him every day of his life, if that was what he wanted; that he would take any excuse to stay with the elf. But this was supposed to be casual. Varen would never feel that way about him. So he remained silent, just looking at the elf as he seemed to gather his wits.
He was still buried in the elf, but Varen slowly started to move to get off him. He hissed as Korik’s spent cock slid from his body, a gush of come and slick spilling out with it. They had made an absolute mess of this pool—the realization caused Korik to flush, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret having done this here. Magic allowed for easy enough clean up.
“Are you alright?” he asked, as Varen stood with a wince, one hand rubbing his lower stomach. Maybe he had been too rough with the elf at the end, after all. Luckily, Varen nodded, though he still moved stiffly as he stepped out of the pool.
“Been a while since I’ve been fucked like that,” he chuckled breathlessly. “And, well. You’remassive. I really did feel you in my belly. But it was good. Just... different. I’m alright.”
Korik nodded, a strange mix of pride and embarrassment spreading through his chest. He had always considered himself rather average, but he supposed that average for an orc would be impossibly large for any elf.
Varen looked at him for a long moment, then seemed to shake himself into action—though maybe he was just shivering in the cold air.
“Well,” he stammered, looking away. “I’ll, er, I’ll go clean up.”
Korik nodded again, watching him walk away. His heart thudded in his chest. He couldn’t deny the intensity of his feelings for Varen any longer, but there was nothing he could do about them.
They had only a few more days together before they would be back in the real world, and it would be over. So he would enjoy this while he could, and hopefully the memory of it all would be enough to sustain him when they inevitably parted ways.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Korik
Varenwasuncharacteristicallyquietfor the rest of the day. After their encounter, they soaked separately until late in the afternoon, then came back together to set up camp a little ways away from the hot spring. He wondered if he had hurt Varen, but the elf refused his offer of healing and denied being in pain—but still, he was quiet and subdued. Korik resigned himself to not knowing; perhaps the elf was just tired, trying to relax while they were here.
After they’d eaten, Varen set his bedroll down beside Korik’s again, even though the ambient warmth of the hot springs meant that the night air wasn’t as cold as it had been higher up in the mountains. Not that Korik would complain. He had decided that if Varen did not want the same things Korik wanted, then he would just absorb as much as he could in the time they still had together, and try not to let his worry for the future sully the present. So he stared up at the stars as the elf slept near him, memorizing the sensation of knowing the elf’s body was so close, and the sound of his slow, even breaths.
Eventually, though, he too succumbed to sleep. When he woke—later than usual, as the sun had already risen—Varen had curled toward him in the night, and Korik’s arm was around him. When Varen began to stir, he pulled his arm away, and the elf awoke none the wiser. Still, he gave Korik the same sleepy smile before rolling over, breathing in deeply, and getting up.
“I haven’t slept that well in weeks,” Varen murmured, stretching. “Stopping here was a good call.”
They packed leisurely, all sense of urgency gone now that they had descended the mountain. The journey ahead, though not over by any means, was far less dangerous now they were in the valley. Still, once they were ready to go, Korik scouted ahead as usual, dipping his hands in the warm spring water as he spread his awareness out into the earth—a welcome contrast to the cold, hard ground he’d so often had to touch in the past days.
There was plenty of wildlife surrounding the hot springs, so he held the first bird he found—a snow finch just a few yards away from him and Varen—and flitted through the air. Snow blanketed the ground, so they would still need their snowshoes, but the way ahead had no obvious signs of danger. He saw some prints that clearly belonged to a bear, but it was heading south into the foothills, not east along their path of travel. Satisfied, he released the snow finch; it would find its way back easily enough, its instincts already pushing against him to return to where it knew it would be safest.
When he opened his eyes, Varen was not beside him as he usually was. For an instant, his stomach dropped in dread and worry. He’d been gone for not even half an hour—what could have happened? He heard footsteps crunching behind him and whirled around. Varen was on the opposite end of the hot springs, brows furrowed as he hurried toward Korik.
“We’ve got company,” he said as he approached, his voice a low whisper. “I thought I heard steps, but it was hard to tell over the sound of the water. I went to the edge of the pools, and I saw a clan of orcs coming this way. They definitely saw me. I didn’t—I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Korik fought down the initial wave of panic from Varen’s words. This far north, the clans they would come across were very unlikely to be associated with the rebels in the southwest. They might be distrustful of an elf in their historic territory, but even here, the peace treaty between their nations was old news. While they might not be welcoming, he doubted they would be outright hostile, either.
“It’s alright,” Korik said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We’re about to leave. Let’s just go.”
Varen chewed his bottom lip, glancing behind him. “You don’t think they’ll follow us?”
“They’re probably wanting to use the hot springs, same as us,” Korik said. “They won’t stop us.”
He could see the group of orcs through the trees now, a distance away, just as surely as they could see him. Korik pulled his rucksack onto his shoulders and motioned for Varen to follow. In the distance, he saw one orc turn to another, gesturing in their direction. The other raised their hands to their mouth: a sharp, long whistle pierced the cold air.
“Shit,” Varen hissed, reaching for his sword, but Korik grabbed his arm.
“Don’t,” he said. The whistle was just a greeting used to acknowledge others over long distances, though he could not deny the nerves mounting in his own chest.
“Good morning, cousin,” a female voice called—the same orc who had whistled. “We mean no harm.”
“See?” Korik murmured, but he realized as he said it that he and Varen always spoke elvish to each other, so he had no idea if the elf understood. Varen was still tense, but at Korik’s words, he released his grip on the holt of his sword; only then did Korik release his hold on the elf’s upper arm. They both stood, motionless and uncertain, as the group of orcs tramped through the snow closer to them.
