Part Four
Farrah expected her parents to pitch a fit when she told them that she’d promised her heart and hand to an Orc who lived in the remotest part of the island, a man without a degree, without a career plan, without anything but land and the knowledge of how to tend it and make it profitable.
But to her surprise, her father and grandmother had been ecstatic, and her mother, hearing that the wedding was to be simple and held in a few weeks, before summer’s end, left all of her worries behind to fly over and start planning a “simple, elegant wedding.”
And Ian’s clan? Welcomed her straight in, almost relieved, as if they’d known that she was supposed to come into his life, as if they knew what it was like to fall in love at first sight and find every doubt answered and washed away as soon as it was raised.
Where would they live? Pine Ridge, her home for the past few years, and his clan’s home from home. Were they suited? Like peas in a pod. A gentle giant of an Orc, a sturdy mountain to shield a dainty willow of a human witch.
And once their mothers got together to tackle an Orcish wedding that had to incorporate human traditions? Well...
“Did our relatives truly just abandon us out here to go to the pub in Maer Inbhir and plan our wedding? Without us?” Farrah stared after the little blue Polo darting down the road. “How did your parents even fit in there?”
“I’ve no idea,” Ian laughed and reclined on the large blue tablecloth that had become their picnic blanket. “I’m glad. In the fortnight since we told them, I’ve only gotten to be alone with you twice.”
“Mm, but I like our little walks at night.”
“So do I, but the cave floor is too small and jagged for—” Ian stopped and gave her a guilty look.
“For cuddling up like this?” Farrah slid onto the sun-warmed blanket beside him, kissing him with a contented sigh.
“I could kiss you forever, Farrah.” Ian stroked her back, and his hand rested on her hip, pretty much cupping the entire thing.
Her hand made a valiant effort to return the favor, and simply ended up bunching up his kilt.
“You’re so much smaller than me. We should probably,” he cleared his throat, “talk about a few things so you’re not worried about the wedding night—seeing as it’s the Saturday after next. ”
“I’m not worried. I am a practical learner, though. Hands-on lessons might help if you’re nervous,” she teased.
“I’m only nervous because I don’t want to surprise you.”
“Well, see, this isn’t fair. You saw your bride naked before the wedding night.”
“That was an accident! A glorious accident,” he admitted with a foolish smile.
“So you think I’m some tiny, delicate thing—”
“Farrah, any stranger on the street could see that you’re a small, delicate thing. Tall! Tall, mind, but not ‘wide.’” He held his hands apart to indicate the width of her hips, and that foolish smile came back to his lips. “And the prettiest bottom on either side of the Atlantic.”
“Ian!”
“It’s true!”
“Well...” Farrah swallowed and bit her lip, nervousness and shyness swamping her. “Do humans and Orcs partner very often?”
“Not for centuries, but it’s becoming a bit more common now.”
“And the women are smaller, but just fine, right?”
“I’ll take grand care of you.”
“I know you will.” Farrah kissed him again and felt the nerves drop away.
Her hands spread over his broad back and stroked down, listening to his soft rumble of happiness as she massaged him.
Her breasts seemed to tighten, and her nipples were achingly hard, just because he was near her, smothering her with love and sweetness, protective and gentle.
And still so devastatingly big. Her hands clamped into tight balls to prevent her from finding the edge of his kilt, but the breeze and their tangled limbs seemed to have other priorities.
“Oh!” Farrah grabbed at her light cotton skirt as it blew up to her navel.
“Hang on, we’ll go—”
Whatever Ian had been planning to say, likely something about going inside, out of the summery gusts that were playing with their clothes and knocking over the picnic basket, died away when Farrah’s fingers slid into his as he was adjusting his kilt.
“Can we stay here? And keep cuddling in the sunshine? It’s nice and private,” she said pointedly.
“Aye, we could. But if we do, I’m afraid that we’ll spoil our wedding night.”
“There’s nothing to spoil. I, Farrah, have always been yours, Ian.
My soul belongs with yours, in sickness and health, and sunshine and storm.
” She plucked a strand of grass and blew on it, concentrating.
Her breath turned the gray-green grass silvery and hard.
A ring. She slipped it over his finger, enjoying the look of awe on his face.
“I, Ian, take thee, Farrah Falkirk, in plenty and in want. Storm and sun. Good times and bad. My soul has always been yours.” He picked a blade of grass from above his head and made a smaller circle. “If I blow on this, nothing much happens.”
She laughed and blew again, making a smaller shiny circle. “It’ll only last a few hours. I can make things change states, expand, or shrink, but only for a few hours.”
“Expand?” Ian’s eyes lit up with something akin to relief. “Even bits of yourself?”
“Ian Fenclan!” Farrah put a hand across her round, pert breasts with a frown. “I know they’re not supermodel size, but—”
“I love your body! I love all of you, every inch. It’s just that... Well.” Ian took her hand from his hip and moved it between his thighs, to the hard, long bulge between them.
Farrah’s mouth dropped open as her hand kept going and going, well past the point that a human man would have stopped.
“I’m more worried about you enjoying my inches,” he said. “Orcs have a... a knot. Something to help us please our mates and stay hard inside of them—and to—er, well, to er...”
“To help us get pregnant?” she suggested gently. “To keep your, um—Wow, we’re going to have to get better at using certain words, Ian. We’re going to be married people soon.”
“I just made my vows. I’m a married man right now,” he grunted, kissing her hard.
“Fine, as the husband, I have to be the bravest and boldest.” He looked somber, puffing his chest out as if ready to go to war—and then curled close to her, keeping her hand on his member, daring to guide it under the kilt so that she caressed his bare skin.
“It’s to keep my cock in your puss, love, so that the seed takes hold. ”
“Ohhh. Oh, that’s this part?” Farrah let her hand wander, getting more and more comfortable as she perceived Ian’s enjoyment. At the moment, it was wrapping around the hard bulge at the base, a thick apple of flesh.
“Farrah, easy... You’ll start something we can’t finish.”
“Who says we can’t finish?” Farrah chuckled, hand gentle, but surprisingly sure.
“I wanted everything to be perfect for you.”
“I’m with you, my heart’s desire. What’s more perfect?” Farrah nuzzled in under his strong chin and kept her hand busy, stroking up and down, faintly alarmed at how big he was, but also quietly confident that when she needed it, magic would be her friend.
IAN WAS FLUMMOXED, but pleased. He’d thought Farrah would be much more nervous, much more delicate, and needing to be led.
Human women weren’t the same as Orc maidens; that’s all his elder brother (married to an Orc from the Bogchurch clan) had warned him of before reminding him to read the works of Ultarn the Prolific.
Ultarn the Prolific wrote a guide to marriage and all things related to bedrooms and bairns, which was a staple for all male Orcs of marrying age, at least the ones in Ian’s clan.
He’d read it, of course, but he hadn’t wanted to read about the sweet pleasures he might never experience when he hadn’t had a girl in his life, and since finding Farrah, he’d spent every waking moment thinking about her, preparing for their wedding, their new life, and his move across the ocean.
Now the pages he’d skimmed seemed to taunt him.
Yes, he’d planned to read more and ask a few more questions (hopefully of Finlay, now that he was back from his honeymoon), but that was because he’d counted on waiting for their wedding night, as he thought Farrah would want.
She was leading things, which was lovely, and arousing in ways he’d never imagined, but it wasn’t fair. He was supposed to do his bit—and his bit had to be more than hers. As her hand had already ascertained, there was no need to “prepare” him. He was hard and ready, like a battering ram.
But the thought of his cock battering away at Farrah’s sweet little cunny made him nauseous with worry. What if he broke something?
“Do you want to be inside?” Farrah’s sweet whisper almost made him lose control.
“More than anything, love, I just don’t want to hurt you getting myself situated,” he confessed.
Farrah was silent for a second. Then, she laughed, that rustling wind-in-the-grass breathy chuckle that he knew was just for him, and that he had come to love more than any sound in nature in just a few weeks. “I was asking if you wanted to be inside the house? Or even if you want to wait, we can.”
“I don’t think I’m as skilled as you deserve,” he admitted, and he hated admitting any shortcoming to his bride.
“Ian, we’re not unskilled. We’re exploring.
Everything with you feels good, and isn’t that all that matters?
You’ll never hurt me, and I’ll always tell you what I want.
I trust you, so I can. I think a lot of women don’t have husbands like you.
I’m the luckiest woman on Earth,” Farrah soothed, kissing him, sliding her little tongue against his larger one, her slender jaw hugged by his tusks.
And it seemed so easy then, to keep hugging her, to keep possessing her like this, caged in his tusks, in his arms, and feeling her clinging back against him, her hand lovingly massaging his hardness, her long leg over his outer thigh until he could feel the damp heat of her sex pressed to him.