Chapter Three #3
“And you didn’t domesticate animals either.”
Farigoth snorted. “You cannot tame saber-toothed cats or dragon lizards.” Farigoth ran his fingers up and down Andre’s thigh. Andre jerked, and Farigoth’s touch firmed. “Taming is for smaller species. For cute species—like humans and bunnies. Those do not exist in Oordoon.”
“So there’s nothing resembling livestock there,” Lord Aranin said.
“When humans and orcs met, city-dwelling, animal disease?infested humans had plenty to infect the orcs with. The orcs, living in small villages and with no animals other than what they hunted and consumed, had nothing to repay the favor with. We inadvertently eradicated every single female orc. And then we complained when the males turned to us, a species compatible for procreation. We didn’t know what we’d done.
But our ignorance doesn’t change the situation we’re in now.
The orcs need us for the survival of their species, and from a moral standpoint, we’re in no position to refuse.
We need to compensate them for the damage our kind has done to theirs. ”
“What are you suggesting?” King William asked through clenched teeth.
“We give them men. In exchange,” Lord Aranin said, addressing Farigoth, “you will retreat across the Great River, giving up Castlehill and all conquered land, forts and villages.”
“We can’t give them men. I refuse. I won’t let unwilling men be taken by—”
“We do not defile unwilling men,” Farigoth snarled, his deep voice sending shivers down Andre’s back. “Orcs who do so are punished.” The last word was a hiss.
Lord Aranin crossed his legs and leaned back, his husband’s arm sliding around his shoulders. “We’ll find volunteers.”
Andre almost purred as Farigoth petted him.
Every place those big, warm hands touched erupted in tingles.
The constant affection was driving him wild.
His body stood in flames. He wanted more.
He wanted Farigoth to rip off his— Fool, he berated himself.
He had to get himself under control. Lord Aranin was surely noticing what being held by Farigoth did to him.
Flushing, he tried to strap down the pleasure coursing through his veins. It was futile.
“Volunteers?” King William asked, incredulous. “Where will you get volunteers?”
Underneath his jacket and shirt, Andre’s nipples were hard.
His cock leaked into his breeches. In the silence that followed, Lord Aranin looked at him.
A moment passed. Then, the rest of the tent turned to Andre, and he flushed harder.
He could only imagine what he looked like in Farigoth’s lap: pink-cheeked, lips parted, squirming with need.
He forced himself to still. They couldn’t find out how he felt about orcs.
That he was obsessed with what Farigoth could do to him.
What would they think? Public opinion of orcs was so negative…
“We’ll find volunteers,” Lord Aranin said, still looking at Andre, his voice firm and sure, leaving no room for argument.
He knew. The whole tent knew. It should’ve been a bucket of ice on Andre’s arousal, but it only fanned his desire.
“All right,” King William said, staring at Andre. “We’ll find volunteers. But there is one more condition. My scout, Eric, must be released.”
“That,” Farigoth said, “is not possible.”
“What do you mean it’s not possible?” The fear for Eric’s life stood bright in the king’s eyes.
“Eric is mated to Ikathurg. An orc will not be separated from his mate. If we retreat across the Great River, Ikathurg and Eric will come with the tribe. Eric will not be restored to you.”
The shock on the king’s face couldn’t have been greater.
Running his hands over Andre, Farigoth added, “Eric is at our camp. If you want to assure yourself of his well-being, we can arrange a meeting.”
King William gave a derisive huff. “I cannot take Eric’s word that he’s being treated well when he’s in the presence of his captors.”
“You can meet alone. Eric will not run. He’s experienced the great joy of being stuffed to the brim by an orc cock and will not want to go without.
” The tent stiffened. Faces reddened. Farigoth, oblivious to his offense of Valian modesty, continued petting Andre.
“You can meet tomorrow,” he added, misunderstanding what had caused the tense silence.
“To satisfy my tribe and the orcs in our homeland of Oordoon, you must supply one hundred thousand men. Then, we will retreat.”
“One hundred… thousand?” King William paled. The nobles looked stunned.
“Realistically, with time, we can find a thousand volunteers,” Lord Aranin said cautiously.
“A thousand?” Farigoth growled. “That will not gratify us. We hunger for men. Many of us share. Two, three, four orcs to a mate. There are many orcs, and each deserves a mate to cherish and breed. A hundred thousand men are a good start.”
They went back and forth, Farigoth demanding large numbers, Lord Aranin patiently explaining what was realistic and what wasn’t.
Farigoth rubbed Andre’s chest as he negotiated, pinching his nipples through his shirt, occasionally dipping between Andre’s legs, cupping his straining bulge.
Andre buried his face in Farigoth’s chest, enjoying every second while it lasted, trying to ignore the people watching him.
The consequences once this was over would be spectacular.
“Look,” Lord Aranin said eventually, “I don’t want to make promises we cannot keep.
At the most—if you’re patient—we can find ten thousand volunteers.
It will take time, and we’ll have to foster a positive perception of orcs, but it can be achieved—with effort.
It will have to be done in increments; we won’t be able to give you ten thousand men at once. ”
“You will give us some before we cross the Great River,” Farigoth said.
Lord Aranin’s shoulders sagged with relief—Farigoth had agreed.
“We should be able to find a hundred volunteers among the people of Castlehill and in the surrounding area as a start. You can take them across the river with you. The rest will come as we identify those willing to offer themselves to safeguard the peace.”
“Once the stories spread of how happy men are with orcs, there will be many,” Farigoth said, certain. “I have one more condition. You meet it, and there will be peace.”
“What is it?”
Farigoth’s hands closed around Andre. “He comes with me as a token of your goodwill. He will not be returned to you.” Farigoth stroked Andre’s front in a display of ownership. “I’m going to take him as my mate.”