And suddenly it was like the world had snapped away entirely. Her hands sparking and grabbing at him, her body thrashing, her legs wrapping tight around his back. “Fuck me,” she gasped, not caring what that sounded like, what it meant. “Please, my lord, more, please!”
It was alive between them, her madness driving his madness, those dark eyes blazing on hers, those clawed hands powerfully thrusting her thighs even further apart. And with a single, furious snap of those hips, that massive cock drove the rest of the way inside, filling her, splitting her, breaking her in two.
Rosa screamed, her whole being flailing and arching, caught on him, trapped on him — and his replying, rumbling roar was more madness, more need, more punching flaring pleasure. And she had never needed anything so much in her life, had never made such sounds in her life, shrieks and groans and hysterical sobs, while those powerful hips finally began thrusting against her. Driving that massive orc-prick even deeper, tighter, too tight to draw out again, wedging them harder, wrapping her closer, spearing her upon his strength. She was part of him, one with him, fused forever, lost —
Until there was — euphoria. Screeching, shouting, mad euphoria, pulsing out wild and reckless, and swarming Rosa’s entire being. Convulsing again and again, quivering violently around the hot swollen pole inside her, while it seemed to swell fuller, deeper, taking everything —
And then he was the one shouting, his huge body arched, his head thrown back, his sharp claws sinking into Rosa’s hips — and that power invading her locked, andexploded. Blasting out again and again inside her, flooding her with spurt after spurt of hot wicked orc-seed, too full to hold, too much to keep, Rosa’s entire body stretched and used and on the edge of breaking —
There was a yanking jolt, a horrible wrenching, battering at Rosa’s very soul — and then, somehow, the orc was away, separate, apart. And Rosa’s used, gaping-open core was spraying out hot thick orc-seed, straight toward him, spattering that heaving, muscled body — and that slick, still-hard cock — with thick, dripping strings of glistening white.
Rosa’s body was heaving too, her arms and legs tingling, the aftershocks radiating pleasure and discomfort and exhaustion all at once. While the orc still standing between her legs seemed to have gone instantly, unnervingly rigid, but for his blinking black eyes.
Rosa’s hand reached for him on its own, caressing down that smooth muscled arm, but he didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t move. Only stood there and looked at her, his eyes flicking up and down her sprawled, sated form with something almost like shock.
“Ach,” he breathed, and in a jerky twitch he’d pulled away from her, his hands on his grey face, his palms pressing into his eyes. “Helvíti.”
The word didn’t make any sense — it was in the orcs’ own primitive black-tongue, Rosa’s sluggish brain supplied — and abruptly there was the awareness, powerful and almost breathtakingly painful, that he regretted this. He hadn’t truly wanted what he’d just done. Perhaps he hadn’t even truly wantedher. Had he?
Rosa couldn’t breathe, suddenly, and she fought to sit up, to reach for him — but once again he twitched away from her, his hands dropping from his face, his eyes again trailing up and down her naked, debauched body.
“No,” he said, his voice cracked, hoarse. “Lie down, woman.Stay.”
Rosa’s trembling body could only seem to obey, nodding and lying back against the lending desk, while the world seemed to spin slowly all around. And while the orc grasped roughly at the last remnants of her tattered dress, tearing it off her pliant form, and then using it to mop up his own messy, sticky-white front, his fingers deft and familiar against that half-hard grey prick, and the hanging, soft-looking bollocks below.
“Helvíti,” he said again, more of a muttered curse this time, his eyes squeezing shut — but his hands kept moving, first tossing the tattered dress onto the desk beside Rosa, and then reaching down and dragging up his trousers, fastening them tight around his waist.
It was like he was hiding himself away from her, and even more so when he went for the tunic on the floor, roughly pulling it on, and then shoving his long hair back, his swift hands tying it up into some kind of loose knot on his head. And then he was standing there before her, tall and silent and fully dressed, the slight sheen of sweat on his cheek the only hint remaining of what they’d done.
Except, of course, for the fact that Rosa was still lying sprawled naked across the desk, her breaths still gulping, her tender, stretched body still steadily leaking hot thick orc-seed. And she needed him to touch her, so desperate she almost sobbed with it — and when that big hand finally, carefully came back to her knee again, she felt her breath choke in her throat, her whole body again needing to sit up, to reach for him, to put her hands to that silent, forbidding grey face.
But his hand snapped up, with surprising speed, to press flat against Rosa’s chest. Holding her there, gentle but firm against the desk, while his other hand reached for her other knee, and spread it wider apart.
He was lookingthere, Rosa realized, with a sudden, mortified flush of heat. At the filled, stretched-open core of her, still leaking his thick hot orc-seed.
“Stay,” he said again, quieter, and he released Rosa’s chest, reaching again for her tattered dress. And then he very gently, very carefully, began wiping up the mess, with soft touches of the dress against her tender, inflamed skin.
Rosa couldn’t help a gasp, stilling his hands against her, drawing his narrow eyes to her face. “Does this hurt you?” he demanded, but she shook her head, fighting to ignore the heat surging in her cheeks. Earning a flare in those eyes that looked almost relieved, before he returned his attention to what he was doing. Now accompanied, unexpectedly, by the thrilling touch of what felt like gentle bareknuckles, pulling her swollen crease a little apart, and then delving slightlyinside.
His gaze was very intent on what he was doing, whatever the hell it was, and Rosa lay there and let him do it, while her thoughts spun strange, stunted circles in her head. She’d just — done that. She’d been taken by anorc. She’d wanted him, asked for him, begged for him.
And it was supposed to have been research, it was supposed to have provided insight into what made these orcs weak — but right now, the only shocking insight was how desperately Rosa had wanted that, and how damnedgoodit had been. How if this orc were to rise up this very moment, look into her eyes, and say,again, she would gasp, and nod, and pull him close.
But as it was, he’d seemed to finish whatever he’d been doing down there, because he tossed her ruined dress to the floor, and once again leaned over her. Not to kiss, or caress, or say something kind, as Rosa might have hoped — but instead to slide one strong arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees.
“W-what are you doing?” Rosa managed, her voice scratchy and thin, but already the orc had hoisted her easily up against his chest, and begun striding away. Toward the back room, her twirling thoughts pointed out, while her traitorous body seemed to curl closer against him, into that warm powerful chest, the still-hammering thud of his heartbeat.
“You must rest,” his deep voice said, rumbling against her, before he carefully deposited her down onto something soft. Onto Lord Kaspar’s cot, Rosa realized, as she blinked up at the orc with hazy eyes, and what in the gods’ names would Lord Kaspar say if he knew she’d done such an appalling thing? If he knew she’d fucked an orc, and liked it? Likedhim?
And even as that alarming thought studded breathlessly through her skull, her hand reached on its own, grasping at the orc’s tunic. Holding him there, from where he’d been about to back away, and she searched those black eyes. Shuttered, distant, almost… afraid.
“Are you all right?” she whispered. “My lord?”
Those eyes seemed to shutter further, a twitch of the cool mockery returning to his mouth. “Foolish woman,” he said, with only the slightest waver in his voice. “It should not be you asking this question, in this.”
There was a stilted silence, the orc’s face twisting in distaste, as though he’d just heard the obligation in his words — but then he took a breath, closed his eyes, opened them.
“Are you well,” he said, very quiet. “Did I truly frighten you into accepting this. Did I truly” — his voice fell even lower — “useyou.”
