Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
TRACY
T he next several days drifted into a pattern with Fenrik hunting and gathering what he could from the surrounding forest while I tried deep cleaning the cabin. Whenever Fenrik was in the cabin, he would insist I sit and rest my feet so they would heal. He wouldn’t let me cook or do any house chores while he was home, so I tried to do as much as I could secretly when he hunted. I had a feeling he knew, though, since every time he returned, each part of the cabin was a little bit cleaner. Finally, after over a week, I declared myself healed enough to leave the cabin and start helping more.
I was sitting on the couch while he cooked dinner in the kitchen when I told him that was my last day staying cooped up.
“Your feet need to heal,” he said, not even looking up from the meat he was dicing.
“They are healed! I promise!”
They didn’t hurt anymore and the deep cuts were now healed over nicely. I had them propped up on the table in front of the fire, still bandaged, with socks on. Fenrik washed off his hands and headed over to me. I was in my pink dress because all our other clothes were hanging to dry. I bit my lip as he walked toward me.
He’d been careful about touching me since he knew it was something I was nervous about, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t been… admiring him over the last several days. I’d noticed how often he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking over the last week. It made me wonder if he was feeling the same growing attraction I was feeling for him. Does he want to touch me? I thought about the idea of touching him and I felt flushed. It was tempting to imagine touching him in return, but also terrifying.
Fenrik sat down next to my feet. “May I?”
I scrunched my nose in embarrassment but was okay with his touch. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen my feet before. “If you must.”
He took one foot in his hand, gingerly pulled down the sock, and removed it. As before, his fingers were rough and calloused and so, so warm. He moved to unwrap the strips of cloth I’d been using as bandages.
“Does this hurt?” He gently removed the fabric from the bottom of one foot.
“Nope.” He eyed me suspiciously as if I might be lying. “I promise, look! They are nothing more than healed scratches at this point.”
Fenrik traced a rough fingertip along one of my larger scratches. I broke out in goosebumps and felt my breath catch in my throat. Fenrik didn’t seem to notice, moving to inspect my other foot. I held my breath as his hands worked over my feet, inspecting every part of them for injury. I felt a somewhat unfamiliar warmth pool in between my legs. It had happened when I watched him butcher our meal our first night and had now happened several times. Generally, when he was shirtless. I was no virgin. I had put two and two together. I was just so afraid of being the first one to say anything. Maybe I was misreading those furtive looks he was giving me.
But here he was, still touching my feet, though they were clearly healed enough for me to leave the confines of the cabin and help with the daily chores. He finished his inspection, gave a small hmpf and stood. He looked me over once more before he headed to the back door and opened it wordlessly. He stepped outside but left the door open. He was gone just long enough for me to start to wonder what he was doing when he returned carrying something. Sitting back down on the table beside my feet, he showed me what he was carrying.
A small pair of leather boots.
“Where did you get those?” I gasped.
“I made them.” He looked at me nervously. “Do you like them?”
“You made them?!” I snatched them from his hands and held them up to the light so I could examine the detail.
While they were definitely handmade, the stitching was tiny and impressive. It must have taken him hours to do this.
“When did you?—”
He cut me off. “While you slept at night. I started them with the leather from the animal I caught on my first hunt,” he said, awaiting some judgment.
“I think they’re amazing,” I said in a low voice. “How did you know my size?”
“Really?” He looked as if he couldn’t believe his ears and flushed. “I may have taken a quick measurement the last time I rebandaged you.”
I took one and pulled it on. It fit perfectly. I slipped on the other one and then looked down at my feet, grinning like an idiot. I’d never been more happy for a pair of shoes in my life. Without thinking, I pulled Fenrik in for a hug. We hadn’t touched like this since he carried me back from my venture out into the woods. And even then, it wasn’t an embrace. Fenrik froze momentarily, as if unsure what to do, before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me toward him. I let out a tiny squeak but continued to hug him. This felt good. It felt right. And he smelled good—really good.
Now that I had shoes, Fenrik was willing to let me come hunt and forage with him. He had strict rules about when I could tag along, but he wasn’t controlling in the way Gabe was. I knew he just wanted to keep me safe.
It was as if that hug had broken some unspoken barrier, and now Fenrik was constantly looking for excuses to touch me in small ways. He’d touch my hands and linger when showing me how to set a trap, or he’d place his palm on the small of my back if we walked up a particularly steep path looking for berries or mushrooms. I wanted to lean into it every time he did it, but I was so nervous. I was quite sure I wanted to touch him more, but I’d never done whatever this was this before. Dating? Having feelings for someone? What if I was misreading everything?
One night, I was sitting on the couch next to the fire, sewing up a tear in one of Fenrik’s tunics, trying not to bring it to my nose and sniff it. Don’t be a fucking weirdo, Tracy. Fenrik sat down next to me with a small knife and a piece of wood in his hand. He had been whittling away at something in the evenings but wouldn’t tell me what it was. I was guessing it was some surprise for me. As he sat, I looked up and smiled at him, a stray hair falling in front of my eyes. He reached out and tucked it behind my ear. Unconsciously, I leaned into the touch. Fenrik’s warm palm was cupping my cheek, and I felt electrified.
“Fenrik?” The unspoken question of what we were doing hung in the air.
Fenrik dropped his whittling on the table and brought his other hand to trace a calloused finger along my jaw.
“Tracy?” he asked, voice husky.
“If you want to touch me more, that would be okay,” I whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Fenrik slipped his hand from my cheek to my neck without skipping a beat. He leaned in and nuzzled into my hair, breathing deeply.
“You smell… wonderous,” he breathed into my hair.
“Well, you smell pretty damn good, yourself.”
I pulled back to look at him. His eyes were hooded with want. Can I? Should I?
My body was already deciding for me. I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. At first, they were firm and unyielding, as if he didn’t know what to expect. Then, as I nibbled along his lower lip, he opened for me so that I could snake my tongue across his. I felt his breath catch as I stroked my tongue across his—maybe orcs didn’t kiss?
“Is this… new for you?” I pulled back.
“Um, I have never done it before, but I would very much like to continue,” Fenrik responded.
Okay. So, orcs don’t kiss. That could be taught. Right?
I pressed my lips against his firmly, my tongue seeking his. He opened his mouth for me, letting my tongue in. The textured feel of it was new to me, and I wanted more. Our tongues sparred back and forth as he held me close to him, ratcheting up my want. I didn’t know what to expect, but I wanted more .
Fenrik
What was this tangled dance we were engaged in? Tracy took me by surprise when brushed her soft lips against mine, and now our tongues were tangled up in some erotic movement. I groaned at the soft slide of her tongue against mine, ready to accept what she was offering. She slid her fingers into my hair, holding me close to her as she continued to devour me. Tracy had always seemed so timid and unsure; it was as if whatever we were doing unlocked another side of her. I pulled back.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Kissing, or making out. Very common for humans,” she said before pulling me in for another kiss.
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing us closer together. Oh, how I had wanted this. I didn’t know it was an option. Tracy pulled her lips from mine and slowly pressed them down my neck. I didn’t know if this still qualified as kissing, but it felt amazing. I ran my fingers through her hair and groaned at the feeling of her lips on my skin. Finally, she kissed her way back up to my mouth, where our tongues continued to tangle together. I wanted to pull her into my lap, but I didn’t want to do anything she wasn’t ready for. And if I pulled her onto me, she would be very aware of the bulge growing in my pants. Eventually, she broke away and looked at me, eyes hooded and lips swollen.
“I—I want to do more, but I don’t know if we should,” she said apologetically.
I knew her past. The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her into something she wasn’t ready for, no matter how loud my cock was protesting in my pants. Yet, I couldn’t deny the ache I felt at her pulling away.
“Okay, do you want to stop now?” I dragged a thumb across her jaw.
“No, but we should,” she said sadly and kissed me again. “I don’t want to mess this up by going too fast.”
She looked disappointed but resolute as she stood and headed for the bedroom.
“Goodnight.” She looked at me as if I would be going to sleep any time soon.
She slipped into the bedroom and shut the door, leaving me with a raging hard-on and a little carved jewelry dish I was whittling for her. I wanted to follow her and continue so badly, but more than anything I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Yet, looking down at the tent in my pants I had to do something to find release.
My cock was so hard it ached, so I slipped out the back door and headed to the stream. I wasn’t going to get in, but I would at least be far enough that Tracy wouldn’t hear me. I headed about twenty yards from the cabin and positioned myself behind a tree before unlacing my pants and freeing my swollen cock. I was rock hard and already leaking at the tip. Whatever this kissing business was, it was doing nothing for my restraint. I thought of the soft slide of Tracy’s tongue as I roughly tugged up and down my cock. I didn’t know why orkin didn’t kiss, but it was an opportunity they were missing out on. I placed my palm against one of the trees as I stroked myself. I thought of Tracy’s lips, of her tiny pert breasts, of her rounded ass. She’d opened the floodgates. I no longer felt guilty for the desire I felt for her. She clearly felt it, too.
I came so hard my vision swam as I pictured pulling Tracy into my lap. The arc of my cum was impressive as I continued to slam my hips into my fist. I’d go as slow as Tracy wanted, but even so, I imagined many nights out here in the woods.