Chapter Ten #3
A couple of evenings later, she returned with Lord Aranin’s answer.
Andre and Farigoth read it together at the campfire, him curled into Farigoth’s lap.
To his surprise, the missive announced that Master George and Resh would meet them.
It contained no explanation as to why Lord Aranin wouldn’t attend, only saying the talks would be held according to orc customs.
It took a moment for that to compute. Andre went hot and cold.
Lord Aranin had caught on to how orcs conducted their meetings and, wanting to avoid another faux pas, had arranged this.
Andre and Farigoth would meet with Master George and the shameless imp that owned him because they wouldn’t bat an eye at coupling during negotiations.
The implications had sweat beading on Andre’s brow.
“What is it?” Farigoth asked, picking up on his unease.
Andre wrung his hands. “The missive… Lord Aranin is creating an opportunity for you to hold the talks with you bedding me.” The notion was as humiliating as it was arousing.
Andre couldn’t help clenching the toy that sat nestled against his prostate, pressing the smooth plug into his sweet spot.
He managed not to gasp at the delight shooting through him.
He glanced up at Farigoth and swallowed. “I don’t know if I can…”
Farigoth frowned at him. “But I take you with others watching all the time.”
“It’s different from being mounted under the eyes of someone from my own culture, a nobleman no less.” Master George wasn’t part of the tribe. He didn’t see men submit to their mates every day. Despite the gleaming red collar around his neck, he led a sheltered life.
Farigoth wrapped him in his arms. “But deep down, you like the idea of him seeing how you yield to me. I can tell by your scent. You reek of arousal.”
Andre blushed.
“You don’t deny it.”
“No. I want it. You’re right, it… excites me. But admitting it, doing it, that’s a struggle. I crave to be yours for the world to see, but I feel apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not supposed to want what I want.” Andre sagged in Farigoth’s arms. “Orcs are unrestrained in their displays of lust. Humans are repressed. In Vale, public coupling is unacceptable. Intimacy is to be kept behind closed doors, and in public, you pretend you don’t experience desire.”
A confession was on the tip of Andre’s tongue, but, irrationally, he feared Farigoth’s response. He worried that Farigoth would react like everyone else had all those years ago—despite evidence to the contrary.
Though… if there was anyone who’d think nothing of Andre’s past, it was an orc. Orcs didn’t care about human decency. The lustful cries drifting over from the other campfires were proof of that.
“Human sensibilities are ridiculous,” Farigoth said firmly. “An orc proudly ravishing his mate furthers his reputation. A mate’s submission is beautiful to observe.”
His words made Andre feel light. He could tell him. Farigoth wouldn’t look down on him for what had happened.
“I know,” Andre said quietly. “In my head, I know. But my heart has been hurt.”
Farigoth snarled, “By whom?” He looked around the campsite, ready to pounce on the culprit.
“It was a long time ago, back in Stagfield, where I grew up.”
“The humans hurt you?” Farigoth’s nostrils flared violently, like he was about to breathe fire.
“Not physically.”
“I will kill them! Tear them limb from limb!” Farigoth shook with wrath, and yet, the hand petting Andre was gentle, tenderly stroking up and down his side. “What happened?”
“When I was eighteen, there was a young man named Ian. We were… lovers.”
Farigoth growled.
“He wasn’t my first, but he lasted the longest, a few months.
In all my courtships, there was a… a problem that got between my partners and me.
It was the same with Ian.” Heat crept into Andre’s cheeks as he thought about the root of his shame.
“Those men, they were built like, well, average humans. Like me, Eric or Lawrence. Not like orcs. Certainly not like you.” Andre’s face burned.
“None of them were big enough to satisfy me.”
Farigoth’s enraged expression morphed to smugness. Another man might’ve found that offensive, but Andre was relieved. Despite everything, he’d feared Farigoth would’ve scoffed at his problem. Instead, he reveled in being the solution. To Andre, that was pure relief.
“Ian and I, we liked each other a lot, but when… when he fucked me, I rarely came, and if I did, it was a dull, unsatisfying shadow of an orgasm. It upset him. He wasn’t used to men leaving his bed frustrated, and he resented me for it—as if my inability to come was my fault, like I refused to let go to spite him.
It was crushing us. I suggested trying a large wooden toy, but he was appalled by that.
I guess he felt threatened, like some cold, hard club might replace him, and so he refused.
Later, I brought up fisting, but he declined that too.
I was looking for a solution, but Ian wouldn’t compromise.
We were at an impasse. Except there was one more thing I wanted to try. ”
Andre licked his lips, watching Farigoth’s expression as he said the next part.
“I’d always been aroused by the threat of being caught having sex.
It was something I’d wanted to experiment with, and for once, Ian was not opposed.
So one summery afternoon, we snuck behind Stagfield’s tavern while everyone was enjoying beer and sweet pies.
Nobody was supposed to see us; we were hiding in the shade of the apple trees, but the thrill of it, the danger of being discovered had my lust spiraling.
Ian was pounding me against the tavern wall when the keeper came around the corner.
In the split second between her seeing us and her ear-splitting scream, I came.
Ian pulled out immediately, but we didn’t even have time to yank our breeches up before a dozen villagers rushed in.
It was mortifying. Despite the embarrassment, it had been the only time I found true relief.
Of course, there were no repeats. Ian and I continued to court, but our relationship had soured.
I never came again, no matter how often we fucked.
Eventually, I secretly went to a woodworker and had them craft a toy for me.
“It wasn’t long before I was caught again—by Ian.
I was lying on my bed, legs spread wide, working the toy.
He was mad with jealousy when he saw I’d shot a sizable load onto my stomach and started yelling.
He ended our courtship on the spot. I was heartbroken, but things got worse from there.
Ian went around telling people I was perverted, that having sex behind the tavern had been my idea, that I had dragged him into it.
He said I wanted to get caught, blaming everything on me to wash himself clean.
He told them about the toy and that, in my depravity, I only got satisfaction from public sex and being pounded by a monstrosity.
In truth, I think he was upset that the toy was giving me pleasure he couldn’t provide.
It made him feel inadequate, and so he lashed out.
The villagers shunned me. People had seen us behind the tavern, and the woodworker confirmed Ian’s story.
I was living at home, and conversation at the kitchen table became awkward.
That’s when I moved to Castlehill. It’s not far, but the miles in between made all the difference.
Stagfield is a village, not more than a dozen houses along the road.
Castlehill is a large town, and nasty rumors don’t travel so quickly from place to place.
I burned the toy and didn’t have a new one made until recently.
I found work in the castle upon the hill and rarely made the journey back to Stagfield. Now you know.”
Farigoth, who’d patiently listened, had gone through cycles of rage, bewilderment and sorrow, the emotions playing out on his face.
He kissed the top of Andre’s head, stroking his arm.
“I am glad you are no longer with the humans. They do not understand what you need. I can see why you struggled. But there is no need for shame in the world of the orcs. A mate’s pleasure is revered.
We value men who come frequently, publicly and with abandon.
Coming for everyone to see is a good thing.
This Ian,” Farigoth snarled the name like a curse, “was not looking after you. He was not a good mate. He did not ensure that you came every day and every night, and he said many nasty things. If this is how mates are treated in Vale, our invasion is a mercy. The tribe will liberate them from their false beliefs and grant them pleasure beyond imagination. You deserve better. I’m glad I get to take care of you. ”
“I’m glad that orc culture is different.”
“Very different. I understand why our ways are challenging for you. You’ve come very far, joyously showing your lust many times.” Admiration shone in Farigoth’s eyes. “It is good. But I will not force you to join the talks. Are you worried the human will judge you?”
Andre thought of Master George, and images of their carriage ride popped into his mind. George and Resh had had no qualms getting handsy. Andre couldn’t imagine them thinking less of him when they themselves would couple in front of him and Farigoth.
“No,” Andre said, “I don’t think Master George would judge. Lord Aranin sent him because he’d appreciate the orcs’ way of negotiating. I will come with you.” He leaned against Farigoth’s chest.
When Farigoth spoke, his low, resonant voice vibrated through him. “Are you sure? I do not want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine. I… I live in a different world now. The things I enjoy are not shameful here.”
“They are not. I am proud of you.”
Andre pulled back to look up at him. “Really?”