Chapter Eight #4
Farigoth hummed. “You’re learning quickly.”
Letting go of Andre’s wrists, he stroked his head, Andre leaning into the touch. No man had come close to sating him like this. In Farigoth’s arms, he was well taken care of.
Inside him, Farigoth remained hard. Andre gave a slow throb. “You want more.” His voice was weak, full of disbelief. His heart warmed. Farigoth couldn’t get enough of him. The thought was heady.
“I have a young, beautiful mate. I should fuck you until you pass out with pleasure.”
Oh God. A wave of emotion swept over Andre. He stirred; his cock, which had gone down to semi-hard, was rising again. His gaze landed on Farigoth’s firm pecs, and the sight turned him to steel. He licked his lips.
Watching Farigoth for his reaction, he stroked his fingers over a pierced nipple, taking the erect nub between thumb and forefinger. Farigoth’s expression betrayed nothing. Andre squeezed and was rewarded with a low grunt. Fuck, he’d do anything to get his mouth on…
Heat crept through him. He wanted to bury his face in that plump pair, to suck on the full flesh. But that was something he couldn’t have.
Except… Andre wouldn’t have dared to ask a human partner. An orc, on the other hand…
“You want something,” Farigoth said. “What is it?”
Andre swallowed. His face glowed.
“I cannot make you happy if you do not tell me. Orcs cannot read minds.”
“I want you to… I want…”
“Yes?”
Why was this so hard? Orcs were so free in their expression of lust. Andre knew he could voice his desires, and it wouldn’t be the most outrageous thing Farigoth had ever heard. Hell, it wouldn’t be the most outrageous thing he’d heard that day.
Farigoth followed his gaze. “You like my chest,” he said with a wide smile, his tone drenched with pleasure.
Andre, keeping his eyes on the aforementioned body part, couldn’t get out more than a small, affirmative sound.
But then his eyes drifted across the rest of Farigoth, that hard stomach, his bulging biceps.
Farigoth was heavy, and he was keeping his weight off Andre by propping himself up on his arms, had done so the entire time.
To be pressed into the mattress by this giant bulk, no escape…
And Farigoth’s chest would be right in his face, in perfect position for him to…
“I do like it,” Andre said quietly, the confession burning hot in his face. “Would you… would you lie down on me?”
Farigoth’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m very heavy.”
Andre bit his bottom lip and nodded. “I know.”
“But I weigh too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can let you know if it gets uncomfortable. I just want to feel all of you.”
Farigoth looked at him sternly. “Do not hesitate to tell me if there’s the least bit—”
“Yes. I promise.”
“And you’re still not allowed to come until I say so. I will slap your thigh when you get your release.”
Andre thrummed with anticipation. “All right.”
Farigoth lowered slowly, as though he didn’t trust himself not to crush him.
With Farigoth’s broad build, Andre was forced to spread his legs obscenely wide to accommodate him as he lay down, Farigoth’s body a hot and heavy blanket.
He kept himself on his elbows, not wanting to smother Andre completely, but Andre made an impatient noise, and he relented, his big chest coming down on Andre’s face.
Oh God, that scent. It enwrapped him, dark and musky. His head was trapped between Farigoth’s pecs, right where he wanted to be. He turned his face to the side, mouth brushing against succulent flesh. He kissed it, lips parting. His tongue darted out, and he dragged it across Farigoth’s skin.
His cock gave an appreciative throb. Caught between their bodies, it was engulfed by heat, the precum he was leaking smearing their abdomens.
He mouthed Farigoth’s pec, kissing and licking, then latched onto a pierced nipple.
Farigoth’s cock jolted inside him. Interesting…
The bronze ring was big and heavy on his tongue. He gave it a pull.
“Ngh!” Farigoth jerked, his cock twitching, drooling precum into Andre.
“You like this,” Andre said, more to himself, licking across the hard center of his nipple.
Farigoth made a noncommittal noise, but his body was speaking a louder language.
Andre wrapped his lips around the tender patch of skin, and Farigoth groaned, rutting into him.
Oh yes, the big bad orc liked having his nipples sucked.
Andre brought his hand to Farigoth’s other pec and squeezed the ample flesh, provoking an erratic thrust that drove Farigoth deep. They both moaned.
Andre continued his gentle play, taking Farigoth’s nipple into his mouth, tongue circling the sweet nub. Farigoth responded to every flick, soon fucking Andre to the rhythm of his tongue, grunts and snarls pouring from him.
Every move had Andre’s cock dragging across Farigoth’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail. He ground against him as he sucked, going mad with need.
Farigoth, reduced to guttural noises and wild jerks, drove into Andre with a vengeance, pounding him. Andre answered with depraved little sounds, squirming as Farigoth hammered his prostate. He dragged his teeth over Farigoth’s pec, tenderly biting the bulging muscle, Farigoth huffing and grunting.
Andre had never seen him so out of control, and he was proud to be making him feel good. Farigoth took him harder, slamming into him full force. It stole Andre’s breath. He couldn’t think, only moan and suck and flail. Farigoth was taking possession of him, and Andre was but a toy for his pleasure.
Farigoth sped up. Andre’s cock pulsed helplessly between them; his hole clenched.
Orgasm built. Andre gave a broken whine.
He had not been given permission to come.
The toy was helping, restricting him, but it wasn’t enough.
He strained his insides, fighting to ward off his impending climax, gripping Farigoth tightly.
Farigoth howled. He thrashed. Unable to come unless Andre did, he slapped his thigh, the pain sharp and welcome.
Andre bucked, impaling himself on Farigoth. He couldn’t have held it in if he’d tried to.
He came with a high-pitched keen, the sound muffled by his lips still pressed to that thick pec. His hole constricted, strangling Farigoth’s mighty cock before breaking into furious contractions. They pumped the cum from him, making a mess of their stomachs.
Farigoth roared. His cock thumped Andre, and hot cum shot into his hole.
Slosh after slosh washed through him, marking him as Farigoth’s.
Andre moaned happily, delirious with bliss when his inner walls undulated, absorbing Farigoth’s seed, sating his most primal need.
It was heaven. Andre convulsed, milking him.
When they descended from their high, Farigoth stayed inside, seemingly too stunned by the force of his orgasm to pull out. He petted Andre, murmuring sweet nothings. Andre didn’t understand a word he was saying, too out of it himself.
After a minute, Farigoth withdrew and rolled off Andre, staring at him. He placed a hand on his sternum, Andre sighing at the heat seeping into him.
Andre regarded him from underneath his lashes, and a warmth that had nothing to do with Farigoth’s body temperature spread through him.
In Farigoth’s arms, he’d finally found satisfaction.
Gratitude filled him. Farigoth was tending to his every need, making all his dreams come true, making him feel… appreciated.
“You learn quickly,” Farigoth said.
“I live to serve you.”
Farigoth hummed, his eyes half closed. “So obedient. I like that.”
“I like it too.” Andre’s words were a whisper.
Farigoth’s lazy gaze dropped to Andre’s mouth. Andre’s lips parted, and despite the fatigue all those orgasms had brought him, he moved toward Farigoth.
Farigoth’s big hand pushed him down onto the mattress, pinning him. Once more, Farigoth regarded his lips. Andre licked them but didn’t move, enjoying being held down.
Farigoth seemed lost in contemplation. Andre burned to kiss him, to assure himself of the connection he felt.
Farigoth brushed his lips across Andre’s, then claimed his mouth, that thick, long tongue stroking him possessively. With his free hand, he conjured the plug and stuffed it into Andre, smirking against his lips when the renewed fullness drew a moan from him.
“So that you’re ready when I take you again.” He didn’t turn on the vibrations.
“Yes.” Andre would always be ready for him, his hole Farigoth’s to claim whenever he felt like it. Their connection ran deeper than mutual attraction. Farigoth needed a vessel for his lust, and it made Andre unreasonably happy to be used by him. It fulfilled him in ways nothing else ever had.
Farigoth pushed off. He was standing at the foot of the bed before Andre could react, leaving him bereft.
“Sleep some more. It is early. Tell the guards when you want me to come back and sate you again.”
What? Andre sat up. Somehow, he had expected Farigoth to stay. He stared after him as he put on his loincloth and left the room.
Confounded, he touched his fingers to his lips. Had he misunderstood? Perhaps there was something about orc culture he didn’t know.
But the kiss was burned into his mind, his whole body reacting to it. His spent cock stiffened, his hole clenched on the plug, and his heart… his heart pounded.
And as he thought of Farigoth, of his might and vigor, a new, delicate feeling blossomed.
He didn’t allow himself to go giddy over it. He wasn’t eighteen anymore.
But Farigoth had left so abruptly. Andre shouldn’t let that bother him.
Maybe Farigoth didn’t return his feelings, perhaps wasn’t capable of it.
Orc culture was brutal, with no room for softness.
Andre shouldn’t complain. He loved Farigoth’s feral strength, his untameable spirit.
But that first kiss had been uncharacteristically tender…
Andre lay back down, replaying it in his mind.
Farigoth’s gentleness, how his tongue had stroked him…
That couldn’t have been in his head, could it?
Dwelling on the kiss would do him no good. He put it out of his mind and, after a while, managed to go back to sleep.
By the time he got up, it was midday—and he and Eric had plans to go horse riding.
“I’ve done some exploring. If you want, I can show you a nice circuit through the forest,” Eric said as he led the way out of the city, their horses clopping across the cobblestones.
“That’d be nice. So you’ve been to Turia before?”
“No.” Eric turned his face toward the sun and closed his eyes. His posture was relaxed, his shoulders loose as he allowed his horse to pick its own way. “I only came here with you. But I’ve spent less time in bed.” He threw Andre a sidelong glance, friendly humor in his voice.
Andre couldn’t help himself. “Come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t had a good time in bed yourself. Not just in the baths.” Eric had been suspiciously cheerful when he’d met with Andre in the stables, a spring in his step.
Eric laughed. “No, not just in the baths.” His smile grew wider.
“Ikathurg showed you a good time this morning?”
“You could say that.” Smirking. A pause, Eric perhaps unsure how much more to say. “He spanked my balls.”
Andre spluttered. “Ouch.” He frowned. “Why are you so happy?”
Eric didn’t respond for a long time. They passed the last houses, and cobblestones gave way to a dirt track that led into the forest. Under the canopy of the trees, the air was cooler, permeated by the scent of earth and spring flowers.
“He did that when we first met,” Eric eventually said. “Slapped my balls until I came to get information out of me.” Eric’s grin widened. “It worked. This morning was a repeat—minus the interrogation. It was amazing.”
“And you go riding like this?” Andre’s balls hurt just imagining it.
“The pain reminds me of him.” The lunatic sounded all dreamy. “And you? Farigoth delivered you from your wait?”
“At sunrise.”
“Couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, huh? I’m surprised he’s let you out of his sight when he could be fucking you all day. Now there’s no restrictions to when and how often he can take you.”
Andre let out air. Eric was right. Farigoth had come to him the minute he could, but he’d also left him on his own the entire day prior to that. And now he was gone again.
“He’s the chief,” Andre said, keeping his eyes on the path. “He has a lot to do.” Andre couldn’t help adding, “He kissed me this morning.”
At first, Eric didn’t react. Then he turned to Andre, his eyebrows drawn together. “For the first time?”
“We couldn’t mate until the ceremony. I guess kissing would’ve tempted him too much. He was… gentle. I didn’t expect that.” Again, that flutter in his stomach.
Orcs weren’t known for showing a lot of warmth. They were rough with their mates. Ikathurg had spanked Eric’s balls, for heaven’s sake! Andre could hardly demand flowers and candles, and yet, Farigoth had been so careful with him.
As they rode into the woods, Eric turned the conversation to other topics, but Andre’s thoughts kept going back to Farigoth, replaying everything that had happened. He went further and further back until he arrived at the day they’d first met in Lord Aranin’s marquee.
Farigoth had talked about the history of orcs and humans, mentioning his upbringing in Oordoon.
He’d said his mother had died of a disease.
He’d been very young. The consequences were obvious—Farigoth had grown up in a warrior culture without the gentling influence of a mother.
It would’ve affected any child. Farigoth had called female orcs small and vulnerable, had compared them to humans.
Perhaps the females had brought a softness to orc culture that was now missing.
Farigoth had never learned the unsaid rules of love and intimacy.
Perhaps that was why he’d left so quickly—he hadn’t known any better.
There was no way to replace what the orcs had lost, but Andre would give Farigoth the affection he deserved. If he opened his heart, maybe that would open Farigoth’s too. Maybe.