Chapter Fifteen
Farigoth
A smile played on Farigoth’s lips as he guided Andre through the streets of Turia, the warm light of the early evening stroking his skin.
The journey home had taken a long time with the endless train of men and pixies now part of the tribe.
Some had already mated lucky orcs, others met their mates in the Turian lands.
In Farigoth’s absence, summer had arrived, the city’s white marble buildings glistening in the sun, heat radiating off every surface.
It didn’t bother Farigoth, accustomed to the sweltering temperatures of the jungle.
There, constant humidity thickened the air, fallen leaves rotting the moment they hit the ground.
This was pleasant by comparison, though poor Andre struggled, sweat clinging to his brow.
It was why Farigoth had waited until late in the day to take him here, to the edge of the old city, where a square watchtower of pale gray stone looked out onto the forest. Farigoth swung the iron gate leading into the tower open, hinges squeaking.
“What’s in there?” Andre asked, poking his head inside.
“It’s a surprise.”
Andre raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking me into an old Turian dungeon, aren’t you?”
Farigoth chuckled. “No.” He nodded toward the spiral staircase winding upward. “Here.”
Andre gave him a skeptical look but made no further comment.
He stepped inside. Farigoth followed him into the cool air of the time-worn building and up the stairs, which had been built for Andre-sized people.
Farigoth ducked his head and made himself as small as possible but still had to squeeze through the narrow upward passage, walls scraping his skin.
He squinted against the brightness as he stepped out onto the flat, crenelated roof. Ahead of him, Andre gasped. Farigoth smiled.
The view from up here was spectacular, the roofs of Turia to one side, the verdant forest to the other. But that wasn’t what had caught Andre’s attention.
On the roof lay a giant silk blanket atop the softest mattress in Turia—Farigoth knew because he’d tried them all.
Only the best would do for his precious mate.
Pink rose petals sprinkled the bed heaped with fluffy cushions.
Pitchers of crystal-clear river water and freshly pressed juices stood to the side along with shallow dishes filled with sliced fruits, honey and a selection of sweet purees.
Fragrant candles burned on the crenellations, effusing a floral scent.
Once the sun set, they would dip everything into a soft light, the countless dancing flames keeping the mosquitoes away.
“How…” Andre started. “Did you… I mean… This is incredible. You prepared this? For me?”
Andre was very cute.
“Yes.”
Farigoth had asked Gael a dozen questions about how humans courted each other and what he thought Andre would like.
Then, Farigoth had collected the flower petals and gone to the chandler.
He’d picked the best fruit from the trees and fetched the water.
Farigoth wasn’t sure if he’d done everything the way he was supposed to, but he’d tried hard to please his mate.
It was shameful he hadn’t realized earlier that humans liked to be both mounted and romanced, and while Farigoth had certainly done the former, the latter had been lacking—something he was going to make up for.
Andre stepped up to the love nest, inhaling. “Roses and jasmine. The candles smell wonderful. And the food looks so good. You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.” Farigoth crossed the distance between them in two long strides. “You told me that you need… gestures. Humans crave sweetness. I have learned. I will give you a lot of sweetness.”
Happiness crinkled the corners of Andre’s eyes. “You’re sincere.”
“Of course. An orc must provide for his mate. Now sit.” Farigoth pointed at the cushions.
Andre’s face was open as he laughed. Smiling radiantly, he settled on the bed, Farigoth crawling after him. He’d done well to get a large mattress—with him joining Andre, it was crowded. And Gael was right to have suggested the silk; it was supremely soft against his skin.
“You have not eaten since lunch?” Farigoth asked.
“No, I—”
“Good. You are hungry. I will feed you.” Farigoth nodded severely. This had to be done right.
He shuffled up the bed and pulled Andre between his spread legs, hugging him from behind.
Andre’s arms were too short and cute to reach any of the food or refreshments, and that served Farigoth well.
His gorgeous mate shouldn’t have to take care of himself.
Farigoth was going to do it. “You start with juice? I have pressed many dif—”
Andre turned in his arms. “You pressed them yourself?”
“But of course. Feeding my human is very important. Especially when I want to court him.”
“You know we’re already mated…”
Farigoth made a dismissive gesture. “No matter. I must court you thoroughly. I do not wish to hear rumors that my poor mate’s needs are being neglected.” He pointed out the different jugs. “Banana juice. Apple. Orange. Lemon. Wild berries.”
Andre reached for the banana juice, almost falling over Farigoth’s leg. Farigoth caught him, pulling his small body against his chest. “No, I will take care of you.” He poured the juice into a tiny, human-sized clay mug and handed it to Andre. “You chose well. I’ve sweetened this one with honey.”
Andre’s delighted moan when he tasted the juice was music to his ears.
“It’s amazing.” Andre emptied half the mug. “My God, this is good. You really prepared all this yourself?”
“I had some help. Instructions. But yes.”
“I’m so lucky to be your mate.”
“Hm. I am more lucky.”
Andre chuckled. “If you say so.”
“More juice?”
Before Andre could answer, Farigoth had poured him a fresh mug, this time spiced orange. Judging by the volume of Andre’s moan, he liked this one even better. Good. Farigoth took great pride in pleasing him.
He grabbed two kinds of puree, the dishes small enough to fit into one hand, taking a fruit platter with the other. Like this, he made a good table for his mate.
“You’re not eating?” Andre asked.
“You first. I’ll eat later.”
Andre wormed out of his embrace to face him. “Courting humans eat together.”
“Oh.” Farigoth hadn’t known that. Orcs fed their mates, but if this was a requirement, he’d adjust.
Andre took the plates from Farigoth and set them down. With Farigoth’s legs spread wide, Andre couldn’t straddle them, so he straddled his loincloth-clad cock instead.
Farigoth reminded himself sternly that this was not the time to get excited. He was here to care for Andre’s emotional needs. Mounting him could wait.
Andre picked a plump, juicy berry, dipped it into a puree and brought it to Farigoth’s lips. Amusement tugged at Farigoth. His tongue darted out, wrapping around the small fruit and hauling it into his mouth.
Rich sweetness exploded on his tongue as he chewed and swallowed. He’d chosen well. Andre would like this.
He fed him a berry with puree, bursting with pride when Andre’s eyes closed in bliss. He even licked Farigoth’s fingers clean, looking him in the eye as he sucked one digit after the other into his pretty mouth.
They fed each other slices of honey-dipped fruit, Farigoth licking the juice off Andre’s face when it ran down his chin.
Slowly, the sun lowered over the forest, painting the sky in brilliant shades of pink and orange.
The warmth of the day lingered in the thick stones of the tower.
Down in the greenery, crickets chirped, the evening air carrying their song.
When Farigoth offered Andre yet another slice of fruit, he declined, running a lazy hand over his belly. “I’m so full.” His eyes drifted over the plentiful leftovers. They’d finished less than half. “Thank you for preparing all this. Truly. That was so kind of you.” He kissed Farigoth’s hand.
“Oh, my precious human.” Farigoth wrapped him in his arms. How he loved feeling Andre’s body against his. With his soft, fragrant skin and shiny brown hair, he was a treasure.
Andre returned the embrace, drawing his arms around Farigoth’s neck and hugging him tightly. “I mean it. You’ve done so much for me. You’ve adjusted to my needs in ways I didn’t expect you to. Thank you.”
Farigoth petted his hair. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for him.
Andre’s mouth sought his, moaning sweetly when Farigoth licked past his lips. He tasted honey and couldn’t resist stroking his tongue, chasing that delicious flavor. He was the luckiest orc in the world. Andre was his. He’d softened Farigoth, was teaching him to be a better person.
Farigoth kissed his cheek, the line of his jaw, his neck. He buried his face there and inhaled, and— Farigoth pulled away.
Andre looked at him with large brown eyes, brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Farigoth brushed a thumb over one of Andre’s exposed nipples, receiving a breathy whimper, the soft flesh pebbling under his touch. He stroked the other one, which brought out the same response. “Your chest is sensitive.”
“Y-Yes.”
“More than usual?”
Andre nodded.
Farigoth studied him. Now that he was looking, he saw it. Andre’s pecs were swollen. In fact, it was so obvious, Farigoth wondered how he hadn’t seen it. He pinched the puffed-up flesh, earning a needy whine.
Farigoth smiled. “You’re pregnant.” He smothered Andre with a kiss.
“Are you sure?”
“Your chest has swollen, readying for my pup. And your smell… yes. You’re pregnant. Ugkor has blessed us.”
Andre’s eyes shone, awe written all over his face. With a happy cry, he threw himself at Farigoth, hugging him. “Oh my God, I’m pregnant!”
Farigoth embraced him, happiness streaming through him.
“Didn’t you say you’ll have to constantly mount me once I’m carrying your pup?”