Chapter 16
Kof
The fire crackled and popped. It cast dancing shadows across Eli’s face. He’d taken his measure of me, and he evidently approved of what he saw. Now his lips, soft and insistent, pressed against mine once more.
A jolt of unfamiliar desire coursed through me. Orcs do not kiss. Our affections are shown through action and strength, not tender caresses. Yet there I was, with this human—this man—whose very touch ignited its own fire within me.
I have seen Archie press his mouth to the shaman’s in a display that always struck me as oddly intimate. But to see it is one thing, to experience it, another. This was not just a kiss, but a claiming, a need that resonated with something deep inside me.
Eli’s body, lithe and supple, moved against mine with a grace that was utterly foreign. He was aroused, and the evidence of his desire was a potent drug, clouding my thoughts with a hunger I’d never truly known.
As Eli kissed me, he set his hands on my chest and traced the scars across it with sensitive human fingertips. Every pass woke a line of pleasure. He wasn’t just trying to please me—he wanted me. His kiss deepened, and I let go and followed him wherever he meant to lead.
The wind howled beyond our shelter, but it was Eli’s hands that shook me to the bone.
I was torn by the knowledge that my clan would never let me wrest him from Pilgrim, not when subtle negotiation was required to handle the Lost Clan.
But in that moment, with Eli’s needy mouth on mine, I chose to set my worries aside and surrender to the urge that had flared between us.
I lay him down on the fur cloak beside the fire. We aligned in a way that felt both foreign and right. His stiff member was trapped between our bodies, mine beside it. And when he arched up against me, gasping in need, I thought I might spill my seed on his belly then and there.
“There is an oil we use to ease the way,” I said, “but I didn’t think to bring any—”
“Don’t need it,” Eli said. He guided my cock down—I gasped at the feel of those nimble fingers—and trapped it between his thighs. “I know how to make do.”
He clenched his legs together tight and began to move against me. He stroked my cock with his body.
Soon, from closeness and from exertion, he was no longer cold—he was sweating.
A heady scent. His frame might be slight compared to mine, but there was a grace and flexibility to it that made my bulk seem unwieldy.
Each of his movements found another way to stroke us both together, a way to send me hurtling toward my brink.
His body called to me, with skin damp from exertion and muscles tight with need.
The grip of his thighs, the intense heat and pressure, was nearly unbearable.
I thrust into that channel of silky human flesh, slow at first, fighting for control.
Each stroke pulled more out of me. I held back with everything I had, teeth clenched, desperate to make it last, to stay inside that silken heat as long as I could. But I could only drive harder.
Eli’s gaze met mine, an open invitation to drown in the depths of his eyes. Blue like the winter sky—strange. Foreign. A color never found in an orc’s eyes. I sank into that gaze, yearning to connect.
His breaths were ragged. He enjoyed watching me—relished knowing he was wanted. I pumped harder into the tight embrace of his thighs.
My climax gathered inside me, raging like the storm outside, threatening to obliterate my restraint. But I clung to my control, spurred by an instinctual desire to witness Eli’s peak before my own. I reached between us, finding his stiff cock. He let out a cry as I grasped him, his back arching.
Too much? I loosened my grip—
“No,” he gasped. “Harder.”
I felt his peak before he shot. His body went rigid beneath me, and his fingers clawed at my shoulders, holding onto me as if I were the island in the raging river.
Seeing him fully surrender beneath me was too much.
A sound tore out of me, rough and low, nothing like my usual voice. I couldn’t hold back. My release slammed through me in waves. Eli answered each one with a shuddering breath that made me want to lose myself all over again.
When I moved to roll off him, his grip tightened on my shoulders. “No,” he whispered. “Let’s stay this way. At least for a little while.”
I eased off partway to put some weight on the ground, but left most of myself draped over him.
My face fell naturally to the crook of his neck, and his scent engulfed me.
I’d never do such a thing with a whore. Nuzzling is a gesture usually reserved for man and wife, and I’d never much seen the appeal.
Too intimate. Too all-encompassing. But as I breathed in Eli, it didn’t make me feel like I was losing myself.
No, I felt like I could drown in his scent—and die happy.
Strangely enough, though, it wasn’t the differentness of his scent I kept coming back to, but the nagging familiarity. It was a small thing. Elusive. It wasn’t his human scent, though. It was something else—something tied to a memory long forgotten.
Eli traced one of my tusks with a fingertip and said, “Kof, you’re the first one to say my name in…I can’t even remember. You’re nothing like the other orcs.”
I didn’t know how to answer—his words held a truth I was all too aware of. I had never quite fit in. But that wasn’t what he meant. Such realizations felt too heavy in the wake of our intimacy, anyhow, so I said nothing, holding him close as the blizzard outside raged.
Eli shifted position and rolled onto his side. I was disappointed our closeness was over. But instead of rolling away, he nestled against me more snugly. “If we left, do you think there’s a chance the storm would hide our trail?”
“Maybe,” I said. He trailed a hand down my back. “But I could never go. Just as you had a pledge, so do I—to my shaman. But my pledge is not a commodity to be bought or sold. It’s my honor—it’s my life.”
“At the beginning, I thought it was honor holding me to my pledge.” Eli sighed deeply, yet this one was full of regret, and nothing like the contented sighs he’d made while we coupled. “But now I wonder if it was just pride.” And then he did draw away.
Of course, I couldn’t force him to stay in my arms—or, rather, I wouldn’t. After everything he’d said, I could never force him to do anything. With his back to me, he pulled on some things that were almost dry, and arranged others to steam by the fire.
It seemed he had nothing more to say.
It was an awkward night, each of us keeping to our side of the fire. And the next morning, the storm had fled as though it had never been there. The winds died down, the clouds bled away, and the rising sun painted the white walls of our hideaway a lurid orange.
I was searching for something to speak about, something that would bring back the connection we’d shared, when the sound of distant voices pricked my ears. One voice in particular reminded me of my duty: Droko’s.
“Kof? Where are you? I saw the fire—”
It was out now. The chimney hole had melted wide a few moments ago, and any dry kindling had been consumed. Now there was nothing left to burn.
A glance at Eli’s rigid back made me wonder if the same could be said for the two of us.