Chapter Nine
Farigoth
Warm and fuzzy feelings swirled in Farigoth’s chest.
Andre. He’d kissed Andre. It made him feel light, as though he might float away. The sensation of their lips pressed together, his cock buried deep in that sweet, reluctantly yielding hole, had been out of this world.
But the feeling that he wasn’t giving Andre everything he needed gnawed at him. Humans were such tender creatures, requiring thorough care. It was his duty to ensure he looked after and satisfied him.
Over the following week, Farigoth mounted him in the mornings, at night and in between.
Andre was sweet and pliable, spreading his legs with a smile, welcoming him.
He’d kiss Farigoth’s cheek and, with reverence, the place above his heart.
Every touch was enchanting him, leaving him helpless to Andre’s embrace.
He was enthralled by his quiet charm and ready submission.
Wanting him to feel appreciated, Farigoth decked him out in gold and jewels.
It made Andre’s status as high mate tangible, signifying that he was not to be touched.
Now that their mating was complete, Farigoth stayed with Andre in his chamber overnight. He sensed it was important to Andre. That made the shock all the greater when, one morning, Farigoth woke alone in bed. Andre, who normally slept on top of him, was gone.
With a start, Farigoth sat up. Andre was nowhere to be seen. Farigoth threw off the silk sheets and launched out of bed, heart racing.
He sagged with relief when he spotted him through the sheer curtains on the balcony. Andre was leaning on the balustrade, watching the courtyard below, one long, slender leg crossed behind the other, his lithe body clad in nothing but a loincloth.
Pushing the curtains aside, Farigoth stepped outside, cool morning air brushing his skin. Andre’s face lit up. “You’re awake.”
Farigoth barely heard him, drunk on the sight.
Memories of the night before flashed through his mind, Andre writhing and arching as he brought him to orgasm after orgasm, coaxing every last drop of cum from his flushed, sweat-slick body.
Andre had become very good at coming on command, obediently climaxing for Farigoth until he passed out, exhausted.
Farigoth joined him at the balustrade, a train of servants moving through the courtyard below, carrying food baskets and piles of freshly laundered sheets.
Things had not always been this orderly, the orcs living in chaos before the humans—a neater, more responsible species—had come into their lives.
Farigoth’s attention swung back to Andre, to those lightly muscled legs, the slight curve of his hips, his flat stomach. Farigoth’s cock, heavy between his legs, twitched.
“What’s wrong?” Andre asked. He looked down on himself as though searching for something amiss.
“You’re perfect.” He took Andre’s chin between his fingers and lifted it, those big amber eyes gazing up at him.
“There is no mate more beautiful than you.” Pink crept across Andre’s cheeks.
Farigoth gritted his teeth against the urge to push Andre against the railing and take him from behind, not caring who was in the courtyard.
He longed to take him publicly again, hadn’t done so since their mating ceremony.
Valians, prudish as they pretended to be, shied away from taking their mates in front of others.
In orc culture, it was customary for the chief to mount his mate regularly for the tribe to see, especially when said mate was so coveted.
Farigoth had kept Andre away from the horde, surrounding him with mated guards and shielding him from the desire of other orcs.
Secretly, their jealousy fueled his arousal.
He loved how the tribe salivated over Andre but couldn’t have him.
Andre’s gaze dropped to Farigoth’s erection, which by now was looming large between them. The pink of his cheeks intensified. “Please,” Andre whispered, looking up, “make use of me.”
Farigoth growled. “I could mount you right here and now.” The words hung between them.
“You could.” Andre licked his lips. “Even if we go inside, they’ll hear us.” He glanced at the servants moving through the courtyard and shivered.
So Andre had become comfortable with the idea. More than comfortable by the looks of it, his lips parted, his pupils blown.
“Why don’t I take you during today’s audience? The tribe must see you surrender.”
Andre nodded, pink turning to red. “Please.” He was hard under his loincloth.
The day brought unfortunate news from Vale. Hopefully, claiming Andre during the audience would calm the tribe.
Arriving in the great hall, Farigoth sat on his throne, the orcs lining the long rows of columns.
The slow beat of the drums announced Andre’s approach.
Farigoth’s heartbeat quickened. The tribe hadn’t witnessed Andre’s submission since their initial mating.
Farigoth couldn’t wait to show the horde how deeply he pleased him.
Andre stepped into the hall looking like a prize.
Thin gold chains wrapped around Andre’s slender body. Emeralds dangled from a delicate ankle bracelet. The silk of his loincloth shimmered sheer white.
Farigoth’s cock stiffened at the sight.
Every head turned, hungry eyes drinking Andre in. His bare feet quietly slapped the marble floor, his jewelry jangling as he passed the rows of salivating orcs, his head held high. The unconscious sway of his hips was hypnotizing.
Farigoth couldn’t wait to devour him.
Reaching the final feet before the throne, Andre sank to his knees in one fluid motion and pressed his brow to the ground.
“Rise,” Farigoth said, voice hoarse with arousal. He doffed his loincloth, exposing the erection between his spread thighs.
Andre climbed the steps to the throne where he knelt again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Farigoth’s engorged tip.
Those soft lips were going to be the end of him.
Farigoth’s loins came alive with lust. Andre clasped his cock and stroked him, precum pouring from his slit, lubricating him.
Farigoth had explained to a blushing Andre what the audience would demand of him, his mate nodding eagerly as he went over the details.
Once he was slick, Andre rose and turned to face the horde, his barely covered cheeks an inch from Farigoth’s pulsating cockhead. Farigoth brushed the silk aside and tugged at the plug. It came free with a wet noise accompanied by Andre’s quiet moan, the sound traveling through the marble chamber.
Farigoth tucked the thin strips of silk into Andre’s gilded belt, exposing him to the tribe.
Gasps rang out. The orcs hadn’t realized he was still wearing the rings from the mating ceremony. They kept his cock hard and his balls plump.
Hungry growls echoed off the walls.
Andre widened his stance and pushed his buttocks back. The sight was enough to have any orc lose his mind.
Farigoth grabbed Andre’s hips. His thumbs, large against Andre’s petite body, parted his cheeks and guided him onto his length.
That beautifully dilated rim kissed Farigoth’s crown, and he gritted his teeth against the groan Andre’s lithe body wrest from him. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get inside and spill his seed. His balls were full to bursting.
Even after all the practice they’d had, Andre struggled to take him. Finally, his entrance gave in and closed over Farigoth’s glans.
He lowered in increments, a strenuous task for his weak human muscles. Farigoth helped. He firmed his grip on Andre’s hips, holding his weight with strong arms, and slowly guided him onto his cock.
The snug heat whited out Farigoth’s vision. He’d never get used to Andre’s tightness, no matter how many times he fucked him. That small body was a miracle. Inch by inch, Andre swallowed him, enclosing him in his hot, narrow channel. Farigoth groaned.
Andre’s skin was soft and warm. He reeked of arousal and submissiveness.
Farigoth pushed his nose into Andre’s hair, inhaling deeply.
Andre’s pretty braid exuded the lovely scent of rose and jasmine.
He’d been to the baths, Gael and Lawrence beautifying him for the audience.
Gods, that sweet fragrance was going to kill him.
The further Andre took him into his gorgeous ass, the muddier Farigoth’s mind turned. He couldn’t think with that tight hole enwrapping him. Defeating him.
Farigoth was nothing but an aching, desperate mess. He existed only for Andre, to be inside him, to bring him bliss and plant his seed in his womb.
Andre constricted, every muscle going taut—he was about to come.
Farigoth could’ve shouted his elation. Andre was gifting him his orgasms so liberally. He came every time Farigoth entered him, just as he’d trained him to, often whimpering his thanks, praising Farigoth for his girth.
As Farigoth bottomed out, Andre gave a shaky little cry, and his eager hole dissolved in a first climax. He squirmed in Farigoth’s lap, gold jewelry clinking, fervently contracting around him.
It took him so high. Nothing compared to coming inside his mate.
Farigoth’s cock throbbed in its confines.
His balls climbed, his dick jerked, eliciting a wanton shout from Andre, and then he was grunting and coming, unable to stop his climax.
The horde went wild, growling and hissing, shaking with untamed lust.
Harsh breaths rushed in and out of Farigoth as his inner muscles pumped in orgasmic release, spouting his seed into his willing mate’s hole. Where it belonged. Breed him, some primal instinct snarled at Farigoth, and his loins delivered, shooting his cum in rapid spurts.
Andre’s answering moan rang through the hall as his climax intensified. His hole undulated rapidly, greedily soaking up Farigoth’s seed. The horde watched jealously as Farigoth pleasured the most stunning human.
The urge to pepper Andre with kisses, to nuzzle and hug and caress him, overwhelmed him.