Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alwyn
Much to his dismay, Alwyn was brought back to the small tent where he’d spent the night. Luckily, he was only there for another hour or two before yet another orc guard barged through the opening, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him away.
This time, Alwyn tried harder to look around as he was pushed through the maze of walkways that comprised the camp.
He noted campfires, a dining hall, a smithy, and pens of livestock.
Finally, he was brought to a tent made of plain reddish-brown canvas that looked like it had been recently squeezed into the space between two larger tents, looking like more of a long rectangle compared to the surrounding dwellings.
There would be more space for him to pace nervously, Alwyn thought dryly, as the guard opened the tent flap and pushed him inside.
“Here,” the orc said gruffly, gesturing to each item inside the tent in turn.
“Bed, chair, water basin. Chamberpot’s in the back corner.
Don’t break anything, because you won’t get a replacement.
If it gets dirty, take care of it yourself.
You’ll get three meals brought to you. When the warlord calls for you, you’ll answer. Show me your wrists.”
Alwyn blinked, surprised, and held his bound hands in front of him.
The orc pulled a knife from his belt, then cut through the knotted rope binding his wrists together.
His muscles ached, half in relief and half in painful disuse, as he was finally able to lower his arms to his sides and stretch his shoulders.
“And don’t do anything stupid,” the orc continued. “You won’t get a warning.”
“I understand,” Alwyn mumbled, now stretching his hands and fingers. The guard stepped back out of the tent with no further fanfare. Alwyn watched the flap tighten as he tied it shut from the outside, leaving him alone once again.
With no other way to pass the time, Alwyn slept in fits and starts, for what felt like maybe an hour at a time.
After his third meal had been delivered, and all signs of light from outside the tent had died away, he felt wide awake from sleeping the day away.
His thoughts drifted to Krujha, and worry swelled in his chest. They should have an ally in the camp—wouldn’t he have helped Krujha get to Alwyn by now?
They were supposed to make a plan once in the camp, but was that even possible when they couldn’t find each other?
How long could he convince himself to wait before taking matters into his own hands?
It had only been a day, Alwyn tried to remind himself as he sat staring blankly at the canvas wall. Krujha was probably still getting his bearings. There was no reason to believe that something bad might have happened to him already.
As if on cue, a rustling sound came from the far end of the tent, opposite the opening that the guard always came through. Alwyn jumped to his feet, heart racing—then, slipping between the panels, was Krujha.
“Found you,” he whispered, grinning at Alwyn as he pushed the panel back into place.
He’d thrown his arms around the orc before he even realized it, driven by a rush of relief and sudden, painful loneliness. He’d barely seen another living soul in the past day, and now Krujha was here, the one he wanted to see more than anyone else.
Krujha made a soft noise of surprise, then gently wrapped his arms around Alwyn, returning the embrace. “You’re alright, little spitfire.”
The affectionate nickname sent warmth blooming through his chest, and he squeezed Krujha tighter, unable to speak.
He could feel his cock pressing against Krujha’s thigh, betraying the unintended effect of the orc’s words on him.
Distantly, he berated himself for being aroused at a time like this; but Krujha seemed to have noticed, and his hands were now sliding lower along Alwyn’s backside.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he murmured, and Alwyn couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at the laugh in his voice. He let out a deep sigh of relief, and Krujha squeezed him tighter—pulling him toward the bed. The mattress was thin and lumpy, but was long enough for Krujha.
“We shouldn’t,” Alwyn panted, even as Krujha pulled them both down. “I—I haven’t bathed in days, and who knows how many guards are outside.”
“Just be quiet, and it’ll be fine,” the orc replied, already pushing his hands under Alwyn’s clothes. “There was only one guard. And you don’t smell. Even if you did, I like your scent. But I’ll bring you soap if you want.”
Heat flooded Alwyn’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest any further.
Krujha’s hands on him were familiar now, bringing a strange sense of relief—something real and tangible and familiar in the midst of so many unknowns—so he let the orc continue to undress him.
He shivered at the cold air on his skin, but Krujha’s hands were warm where they touched.
Krujha had kicked down his trousers, so Alwyn straddled him, pressing their cocks together.
The stark size difference between them was never more apparent than it was when they were like this, which had made him feel strangely embarrassed at first, but now only sent desire racing through him.
More than anything he wanted to feel Krujha moving inside him—a thought that had frightened him at first, but now felt desperately urgent.
Maybe they would get the chance later, but not today—a cry of pleasure or pain would mean discovery and likely death. So he closed his eyes and rocked against Krujha’s hard cock, the skin-to-skin glide making him shiver.
“You’re perfect,” Krujha breathed, encircling them both with one hand.
Alwyn bit back a groan at the tight heat around his length, his own slick easing the way.
Everything about what they were doing was so dangerous, so foolish—but the thought of being discovered like this only brought him closer to the edge.
“I’m close,” he panted, barely above a whisper. The mattress was right on the ground, so it made no noise as Alwyn thrust his hips harder into Krujha’s hand, only the soft rustle of cloth and the sounds of their skin against each other.
“There you go,” Krujha purred. “You just needed someone to take care of you, didn’t you? You’ve been so good, little spitfire.”
Alwyn had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle the needy whine erupting from him as Krujha’s words set him over the edge, his hips stuttering to a stop. He panted through his orgasm, the wet heat of his own seed surrounding his cock. Krujha stroked him through it, still whispering encouragement.
When his eyes fluttered back open, Krujha gently released his grip to drag his fingers through the mess of slick and come that Alwyn had made. Embarrassed heat rushed through his face—then the orc started to stroke himself, biting his lower lip.
“Feels so good on me,” he panted. His other hand, which had been holding Alwyn’s hip, snaked further back to squeeze his ass. The orc’s fingers pressed against his slick hole, just barely dipping inside. Alwyn stifled a groan as Krujha made a soft noise of pleasure.
“Next time,” Alwyn breathed, rocking in time with Krujha touching himself. “Next time I want to feel you come inside me.”
Krujha made a soft, strangled noise as his hand stuttered around his cock, his eyes squeezing shut. Pleasure curled in Alwyn’s stomach as he watched Krujha come just from the possibility of being inside him, adding to the mess he’d made on his toned stomach.
“Fuck, Alwyn,” he finally panted, all the tension in his body draining away at once. “You can’t just say things like that to me.”
Alwyn had to stifle a laugh at that. “Try and stop me.”
When they’d wiped themselves clean, Alwyn’s head felt much clearer.
This had been needlessly risky, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Krujha had said the tent was only being guarded from the front, and he’d been able to sneak in from the back easily enough.
As long as they were quiet, maybe they could do this again.
And he could always silence them with his magic if he needed to, though that had its own risks, too.
“I know you didn’t come here just to—well, just for that,” he said wryly, making a small magical light and turning to face Krujha.
The orc was now dressed, sitting on the edge of the thin mattress and smiling softly at him.
His cheeks were still flushed a darker, almost ruddy green in the afterglow of his orgasm. “Have you found anything out?”
At that, Krujha’s expression faltered, grimacing. Alwyn’s heart sank—that couldn’t be a good sign. The warm cocoon that had been enveloping them so quickly fell away, revealing itself for the illusion of safety that it was.
“Well, they have me working in the kitchens, so there’s lots of gossip, but I’m not sure how much of it might be true,” he said, rubbing his hands, as if even the mention of the work made them ache.
“This camp hasn’t been on the move for a few months, so everyone was expecting to wait out the winter here.
But now that Zesh is here, no one is sure anymore.
Some say he came here because of spies in the camp where he was before, but I don’t know if that’s true.
Others are saying he came here to prepare for a siege, but I don’t know how realistic it is that he would make that kind of move in winter—and we aren’t exactly close to Drol Kuggradh, either. ”
“So no one knows what’s going on,” Alwyn sighed, his shoulders sagging.
“Not really. But it seems like most of the orcs here are excited by Zesh’s presence, so no one’s too worried about what it means. They have faith.”