Epilogue
ROSETTE
One of my less bright moves was not looking up orcish mating rituals before I agreed to them. It wasn’t until Vincent explained it to me that I learned we would need to wash each other in an ancestral pool in front of all of Vincent’s friends and family—and his entire clan.
Oh, and also? Vincent isn’t even his real name. It’s Gorak.
My new husband’s real name is Gorak, and I had no idea.
“Vincent’s my middle name,” he says. And I do remember seeing a document somewhere that said G. Vincent Roth.
Our three months go… well, swimmingly. I’m never home, despite the rent I’m paying on my apartment. Vincent encourages me to switch up the art in his house, revealing that he has a small collection to choose from. Every night, he sleeps wrapped around me like he can’t imagine letting me go.
Now we go out to eat, and I order my own meal—unless I can’t decide, and then he chooses for me. I like being able to hand my choices over to him, and easily he slides in and picks what he knows I really want.
I parted ways with Octavio’s, which wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected. Not when The Black Cavalier invited me in with open arms to be a performer. I’m sure it helped that Vincent bought a rather large share in the place.
Our first night on stage, Vincent changes. He becomes Mr. Roth again, dressed in his suit and tie, while I’m in revealing “office” attire.
“Filthy slut,” he says to me, slapping my ass. He bends me over the swing, rubbing me across the gusset of my panties. “You like your boss fucking you, don’t you?”
“Oh, I do, Mr. Sebastian,” I say, murmuring his stage name. “I especially like when he comes inside me.”
Vincent makes a growling noise that’s all him, clearly ready to get this show on the road.
It’s not long before he’s unbuckling his belt, which he uses—with my pre-approval, of course—to slap my thighs and ass a few more times.
Then, he puts me onto the swing and spreads my legs wide, turning me so everyone can see as he fists his massive cock and thrusts inside me.
Nothing is as good as dozens of people watching as my mate fucks me. That’s what I am, I know it now. He’s mine, all mine.
And then there are the nights together. He tells me everything in his silk sheets, and I know before the three months are up what decision I’m going to make.
“Let’s do the rituals,” I tell him over breakfast one Saturday morning.
Vincent sits upright. “Truly? I can organize it for next week.”
“Next week, then. And we can have the wedding later, after we’ve had some time to plan for it.”
Vincent huffs out a breath but nods in agreement, anyway.
He always gives me what I want.
VINCENT
I never really understood orc mating rituals before I participated in one. Now, I think I do.
First, we are separated from each other, which I’m sure makes Rosette nervous among so many strangers.
I am stripped down naked and then my peers, orcs I grew up with, are there in the room cleaning me and covering me in fragrant oils.
We chat about life in the city, how everything there is busy and fast in comparison to these old mountains.
Then I’m dressed in ancestral attire, the ceremonial kind with many sashes and ornaments, and my mother fusses over me until it’s perfect.
“I never thought my hardworking, stoic son would find his forever mate,” she says, patting the side of my face. “I am so glad.”
Then it’s time for the ceremonies. Rosette is sparkling when I see her, hair shining and skin glowing. Braziers are lit, and songs are sung by my clan mates as we stand in the middle and hold hands. Hers are so perfect and small in mine, I want to swallow her up.
Next, I am given some smoking herbs and must walk around her ten times, binding her soul with mine.
Perhaps it is simply the smoke, but it’s as if I can feel it working, bringing us even closer together.
Gazing down into Rosette’s eyes, it’s as if the ancient will of my people is guiding us…
and I feel a connection to it and to her.
The mating instinct is never wrong.
After the ceremonies, we’re led to the ceremonial pools.
We undress each other in front of the clan, and then I guide her into the water.
There, I wash her clean, and she does the same to me while everyone sits in quiet reverence.
When we’re finished, a cheer goes up from all the orcs in attendance.
We’re draped with towels and sent off on our way to consummate our new mating alone.
With one of her legs up over my shoulder, the other cradled in the crook of my elbow, I show Rosette exactly what she means to me.
It will be time soon to meet her parents and siblings, and her best friend from middle school. Then a grand wedding, as appropriate. But I am, to my own surprise, excited about all of it.
Especially the part where I brought home two matching puppies from the shelter and Rosette screamed the loudest, happiest scream I’ve ever heard. And I make her scream a lot.
She promptly named them Sandwich and Blueberry, because she claims dogs should always have food names and not people names.
And every Saturday night, I dress up as Mr. Sebastian and fuck my woman in front of everyone, showing them she’s mine.
All mine.
THANK YOU FOR READING!