Ohdamnhim, this was such a devious ploy on his part, surely meant as revenge for what Gwyn had said to Simon earlier — and Joarr’s grin was sheer, insolent wickedness as he yanked her legs wider apart. Exposing even more of her, for Silfast, for the orcs that she couldfeelnow watching them, for his own greedy, glinting eyes…
And then he knelt down, and —lickedher. Impossible, unthinkable, and Gwyn’s cry of shocked pleasure tore from her mouth, her body reflexively opening wider for his tongue — and oh, it was brilliant, the deceitful wonderfulfiend. His glorious tongue shamelessly flicking and tasting and drinking, sinking into all her most secret places, wheeling the hunger higher and hotter with every slick, slippery touch.
“Oh goddess,” Gwyn gulped, her breaths heaving, her eyes squeezing shut. And suddenly it didn’t matter who heard, who saw, her orc feasting upon her in the middle of a party, kneeling and worshipping her on his altar, while their friends flagrantly mated beside them. “Oh, please, Joarr. More.More.”
He was dragging his teeth now too, skittering up the pain alongside the pleasure, his claws gripping at her trembling thighs, holding them apart. “More what, witch?” he asked behind her, between licks, over her gasping groans. “Speak, and then I tend you.”
Andthen. Goddess curse him, bless him, because Gwyn couldn’t think, couldn’t possibly stop the words tumbling from her mouth. “Yes, yes, yes,” she babbled. “Tend me. Take me. Fill me. Let me worship you. Seek blessing with you.Please.”
And when her frantic eyes again found his, he was already standing tall behind her, his eyes glittering with hunger, his long tongue slowly licking at his slick-wet lips. “See?” he said to Silfast beside him. “It is all the sweeter, when they plead.”
Silfast’s hooded gaze had been fixed on Stella’s bare arse, on his own heft slamming inside — but he paused his rhythm as he glanced over, his eyes assessing. As Joarr finally leaned closer, and nocked his slick swollen head against Gwyn’s clenching, craving heat. Pulsing against her, gently parting her around it, making her feel it, please goddessplease—
She howled as he slammed inside, burying himself to the hilt. Spewing the hunger fierce and furious, trampling beneath her skin — and then ramping it even wilder as he circled himself hard within, grinding against her, gouging himself deeper. While behind her his groan burned through the air, his claws piercing sharp against her hips, his breath hot against her bare back.
“Ach, this is fair,” said Silfast’s voice, though it sounded hoarse, faraway. “Butmymate’s screaming is better. Mark this.”
With that, he did something that indeed had Stella shrieking, her whole body shuddering on her hands and knees — but Gwyn scarcely noticed, not with Joarr now sliding back out of her, all the way. Until he’d slipped fully free again, his slick head just brushing against her swollen, convulsing crease.
“Ach, ach,” Joarr said to Silfast, his voice appallingly smooth. “But you wish to hear good scream? Markthis.”
His drive inside was more like a charge this time, skewering Gwyn in one powerful stroke, impaling her whole upon him. And her sharp scream indeed rose on its own, tearing out of her throat, carrying high and shrill over the noise of the party and the drums around them.
Joarr’s laugh behind her was dark and satisfied, his body again grinding hard against her invaded, helplessly clutching heat. While beside Joarr, Silfast made a grunt that sounded reluctantlyapproving, even as that was surely the sound of another slap of his big hand against Stella’s arse.
“Ach, but mine is so meek and sweet,” Silfast said, his voice unmistakably breathless now. “And her form so full and soft. See how her pretty rump trembles whilst I plough her.”
Joarr had briefly gone silent, as if he was in fact looking, oh goddess — but then Gwyn felt the hard prick of his claws again, digging into her bare hips. “Ach, and mine is lithe and sleek and quick,” he countered flatly. “She now climbs trees better than most orcs. And” — she felt his hand slipping up her back, gathering up her hair — “sheseesme. Follows what I wish, so I no even need tospeak. Ach?”
With that, he gently yanked on her hair, the pressure steady and sustained, wanting her upright on her knees — so Gwyn instantly pushed herself back, and felt his strong arm clutch close around her front, holding her tight against him. And when his hand on her hair tugged sideways, her head immediately tilted, baring her neck with appalling ease. Almost as if begging him to taste, to drink…
And yes, those were his teeth, scraping hot and close, sharp deadlyecstasy— and Gwyn screamed again as they clamped down, sinking deep. As he again ground and swelled within her, his throat now greedily gulping, his hand clutching hard against the swell of her waist.
When he released her she was shuddering all over, trembling on her hands and knees, her only support the heft still plunged deep inside her, and his hand’s strong grip on her hair. Holding her head high, flaunting her, while he slowly picked up speed behind her, sparking more heat, more hunger, more furious fierypride…
“She longs for me,” Joarr hissed as he slammed in again and again, scraping his other hand’s claws down her side. “She is fierce and loyal for me. She shall destroy all my enemies, to honour me.Me.”
Oh hell, oh goddess, the need and the ache burning, spiralling, rushing hot and white. Gwyn’s orc praising her, claiming her, firing her through with impossible pain and pleasure, his hand yanking on her hair, his claws dragging hard enough to score against her skin…
“She is mine,” Joarr gasped, slamming harder, now in perfect time with Silfast’s steady grunts beside him. “She shall milk me dry, spurt out her juices, and anoint this altar with our fresh seed. She shall bear our next Seer, and gain us all the goddess’ deep blessing, ach —”
It was like he’d choked on the words, driving desperate and careening toward the edge. Spurring Gwyn on, yanking her up and back, racing past Silfast, his body locking and pulling up hard, catapulting toward the cliff —
The fall was sheer, sharp, shocking, their shouts soaring as one — and then they were flying. Gwyn’s rapture screaming through her entire self, hersoul, thundering again and again and again, as the hot powerful prod inside her finally burst apart. Pumping out its rushing surge of seed in hard streaming torrents, while Gwyn’s own body flooded out her release, and dragged yet more from him in clutch after greedy clutch. Making it her own, making him hers, hers,hers.
When they finally settled again, found earth again, Joarr was bent double over Gwyn’s back, his breath coming out in heavy, dragging gulps. And beside them, Stella was finally shouting too, her face flushed and alive with pleasure, while behind her Silfast bellowed and roared as he emptied himself inside her.
And then, somehow, silence. Or rather, the sounds of the ongoing party around them, the steady pulse of shuddering drums. And when Gwyn risked a furtive glance upwards, it was to the realization that they’d indeed had an eager audience, multiple Bautul watching this — thiscompetition, damn it — with hungry, wondering eyes.
But in it, too, there’d been… trust. Peace.Fun, even. And as Gwyn raised her eyes to the ever-watching moon, she found that there wasn’t the faintest hint of regret, or shame. Just satisfaction, maybe, or even an odd, lighthearted smugness.
“We won,” she murmured, toward where Joarr’s head was still close beside hers, still breathing hard. “The winners probably get most of the goddess’ blessing, don’t you think?”
Joarr’s laugh was throaty and low, his mouth nibbling approvingly at her neck, even as Silfast huffed a harsh, husky growl beside them. “There is nowinning, with the goddess,” Silfast grunted. “She blesses all her own. Most of all those who have known her longest, ach?”
Joarr loudly scoffed over Gwyn, and abruptly jerked himself up and back, dragging her with him. And of course she didn’t resist, just followed the easy lead of him like always — at least, until he kept his hands on her hips, tilted her sideways, and yanked himself out. Which meant — Gwyn gasped, her face flooding with heat — the heated, slippery mess he’d made inside her was surging out of her in spurt after spurt. And spraying directly onto Silfast’s hairy bare flank, painting him with thick ropes of Joarr’s hot, sticky seed.
“Ach, ach,” Joarr said, his voice dripping with coolness, with mockery. “Raining again, I ken. This is what comes, Captain, when you seek to steal your Seer’s altar, and his blessing.”
