For
@DaGlobster Shivering was becoming a regular everyday thing for her.
Grace tucked her hands under her armpits and curled into herself, an attempt to keep warm when everything was so cold. Though, it wasn't actually cold at all and Grace was always just
too warm. A downside of her magic. Her body temperature was through the roof and moderate temperatures were just too cold for her. The fact she had been dressed in a sheer gauzy fabric to accent her features - show her off naked without her actually being naked - didn't help her at all.
She had gotten her wish.
Braving the forests, Grace had gotten from of Connlaoth and the mage camps.
The price was high though and she cast a glance at the green skinned individual who'd put the paint on her.
Grace was to be a gift.
Her hair had been brushed out and taken from it's tie. The long white-gold coloured strands reaching her waist in thick waves. Another shiver ran through her body, though it wasn't from the cold this time. It was from fear.
Could it be called kidnapped if there's no one to know you were taken?
The orcs... Goblins? Grace didn't know. They'd found her. Snatched her from her sleeping spot under a tree. Stripped her down and tied her up. A humiliating act was done to her to test her purity but, other than that she wasn't touched. Wasn't manhandled. Not a bruise or a marking on her aside from the colours of the people she was to be given to.
A peach offering, they'd tried to explain in common. Grace was going to be the tool used to bring peace.
Supposedly.
Which was why she was being tugged along through a crowd and shoved in front of the leader - or what she supposed was the leader.
"We've brought you a gift!" he proclaimed, holding Graces shoulders before pushing her forward gently.
Another shiver wracked her body and she stared down at the ground like it was her only life line. Was this worse than the mage camps?
"A virgin human!" The orc was quite pleased with himself, reaching around and pulling open the material to present the human's body. A little thing, they'd tried to feed her to fatten her up and it'd worked a
little but she was still tiny and it was too late to switch her out for one that was more voluptuous.
Grace cast a glance up to the receiver before she ducked her head back down quickly after just a glance, eyes squeezing shut while tears trailed down her cheeks. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a life. Later. When they were sleeping. She'd try to get away then.
"We hope it pleases you because, while small, she is quite beautiful. Eyes the colour of trees!" His hand snaked around her head to pull her head up and finally she stared at him and it felt like the world filled upside down. He couldn't exactly boast about how pillowy her tits were - because they weren't. Stupid human and her inability to gain weight fast enough to give her decent breasts.
He was going to kill her.
It had been a long day for Motark Bloodspears. No battles, fortunately, but there had been a dispute between two higher tribe members, and Motark had spent most of his time, energy, and emotion dealing with that issue. It all ended with a blood duel, as it usually did.
Motark had barely had any time to himself, so when the peace offering from the White Leaf clan arrived, he was in a...
...less than jovial mood.
He gazed down at the delegates and their gift from his throne, a magnificent seat lined with the skulls of the Bloodspears who sat on it previously. He found some degree of amusement in thinking about how these delegates could come to the conclusion that the woman before him would make a good concubine.
Maybe for a regular orc, but Motark was a solid two feet taller than her, towering over her even as he sat. He mulled over his options. The White Leaf clan had been an annoyance, this was true, however, they'd been nothing more than that. They thought they could attack the Red Sun Clan's hunters, and encroach on their territory. They were a significantly smaller clan and they'd bitten off more than they could chew.
They'd learned their lesson, it seemed.
Motark stood.
"With this gift, your chieftain has brought peace between our two clans," Motark said in orcish.
"Leave now, and never return. If I ever see another White Leaf on my territory, you will not find me so merciful the second time around."
He motioned for them to leave.
Another shiver ran through her and Grace was pushed forward after some words in a strange language were said. The monsters that brought her here were leaving and Grace could only whimper and curl her arms around her middle. A hesitant look to the monster and Grace sucked in a breath, darting her eyes.
There was no escape.
"Please," she said quietly, taking a hesitant step forward. "I just..." Want to go home. But she didn't have a home. "Don't eat me," Grace finally finished, hair slipping over her front to cover her body, "I don't want to die."
Motark looked down at the girl, begging for her life, and he turned his back to her. He walked back to his throne and sat down. He'd deal with her in the morning, but for now, he was in no mood for this.
He motioned to his guards, once again speaking in orcish.
"Get some shackles on her, and give her some furs to cover up. Confine her to a tent so I can deal with her later."
Two of Motark's armored guards (monsters in their own right) stepped up to her. One of them took her by the arm and led her outside of his tent. The Red Sun clan's village spanned the entirety of a valley, and it was a veritable city of tents, wooden structures, and agricultural fields.
The guards started leading Grace to a small, one-person tent just outside of Motark's tent.
Wouldn't get eaten today.
Grace sighed in relief.
Only to squeal in fear, though quickly she snapped her mouth shut.
Thrown into the tent, a skin of fur was tossed at her and Grace could do one thing.
Curling under the blanket she moved as far from the opening as she could and she cried.
"This is worse than Mage camps." She whispered to herself, ducking her head down. At least those had all been humans. The paint was itchy but now her hands were bound.
As per Motark's wishes, Grace was left alone for the duration of the night. Come morning, though, the flap to her small tent was pushed open, and an armored orc stepped in.
"Chief will see you now," he said.
Eventally she had fallen asleep, curled upunder the fur. For the first time in weeks she had been warm. The intrusion had her startled awake and Grace stared wide eyed at the orc. Doing her best to cover her body she stood up and swallowed, moving closer to follow.
Maybe he could be reasoned with. She could explain and he would let her go. Grace looked to the orc, pale and trembling before giving a nod, waiting to be escorted away to this Chief.
The orc took her roughly by the arm, and returned her to Motark's tent. They went past the throne and through a set of flaps that had been pinned up. Motark's tent was a massive affair, with only the front end being dedicated to the throne room. The rest of it was a single large room that made up the rest of Motark's living quarters.
Indeed, it was fit for a king, and the chambers were as luxurious as a tribe of savage orcs could manage.
Motark was doing situps in the center of the room, counting to himself in orcish. The guard left, letting down the pinned flaps with a knowing grin.
For the most part, it seemed Motark hadn't yet ackowledged her presence.
Grace was going to faint.
It felt like her heart was in her throat and she gave a long hard stare at the closed tent flaps. She supposed this was why they wanted to make sure she was 'unused.' It would be impossible though, Grace watched the Orc man do his sit ups. Speaking to himself in that strange language.
She wasn't sure if she was cold again or if it was terror that made her shiver.
Still, Grace kept quiet.
A brief glance at the tent flaps and a steady breath.
Maybe... Maybe she could just sneak away.
A gentle movement and her knees gave out. Grace was on the floor, naked except for the fur's that had fallen from her shoulders and her curtain of white gold hair. Trembling. It was fear. For the first time in her life she was trembling in fear.
"Are you going to eat me?" She finally asked, hesitant, half sure the Orc-man would just ignore her anyway.
"No."
The answer was immediate, and Motark's common was surprisingly good, much better than that of the orcs who'd brought her in.
He stopped doing his situps, and he sat up straight. He drew a knee up and rested an arm on it. He was wearing nothing, save for a short kilt made of furs around his waist that kept him covered. Ever inch of him was covered in rock hard muscle. He could probably tear Grace in half, if he so desired.
"The orcs who brought you; how did they capture you?"
It wasn't a big relief.
If he wasn't going to eat her, what else was she here for? Grace gave another shiver, lower lip trembling. Always so cold.
"I was sleeping," She admitted, head down before she did her best to pull the fur back up over her shoulders. It was still warm from her. A mini-heater that she was. Everything else was just too cold and Grace snuggled under the fur and stared down at the ground in front of her - though she snuck a few peaks at the orc and felt the primal fear.
"I got away from the mage camps in Connlaoth and... " A hitched breath and the tears came, now she was here. A weary look to the orc before she lowered her head again, shoulders shaking while she tried to keep her sobs silent. "I don't even know where I am."
"You're in Bloodmorrow, home of the Red Sun clan."
Motark watched her shiver and cry, and a pang of emotion flitted through him. She was here because of a war. A war he escalated.
"It lies in a valley between the Great Plains and what the humans call Adela."
Grace just stared at him.
He wasn't scary looking anymore.
It felt like a punch in the gut.
"Adela?" The words were a whisper and she shuffled closer, looking torn between being happy and still being terrified. "I'm in Adela? Not... Not Connlaoth?" More tears. More huffy little breaths. "I'm free?"
"You are neither in Adela or Connlaoth," Motark said, and he rose to his feet to stretch.
"So yes. You are free from Connlaoth."
He didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but it seemed like her not being in this "Connlaoth" place calmed her down.
Grace lost any sense of joy about not being in Connlaoth when he stood up. She simply stared up at him in slight horror.
"Are you a monster?"
At her words, Motark frowned just a tad.
"I am an orc."
"I've never met an orc before," She swallowed, moving a little closer. Curiosity overcoming any fear. He wasn't going to eat her. He hadn't touched her. So far he seemed to be the safest thing here.
"Why are you so big?"
"I am chief," Motark said, and he motioned to the rest of the room with his arms.
"I am of the Bloodspear line. My ancestors were the greatest chiefs to have ever lived."
Grace looked around, confused. What sort of answer was that?
"I don't know what that means." Another few steps closer before she remembered - she didn't want to be here.
"Can I go? Please?" Grace shook her head, "I'll do anything. Just... Can you let me go?"
"Ancient blood flows through me. That is why I am so... "big"."
At her second set of words, he lowered his arms, and sighed.
"I cannot."
He crossed his arms.
"I desire to, but I cannot."
He desired to but he couldn't.
"Why not!" Grace snapped, glaring up at him. Any fires in the area would grow. A surge of power would have then brighten and dim with her little flash of temper. "You just said you were the chief! That... That means you could let me go!"
Silently, Motark watched as this small woman's temper flared up, along with all the fires in the area, which included the torches on his wall and the fire pit in the center of the room.
"If I released you, the rest of the tribe would see me as weak. My enemies would see me as weak."
Grace made a pointed look to the firepit, looking back at him and then back at the firepit. Nothing? No gasp? A brief look at his eyes - which she had to focus on behind those teeth - and she didn't see any fear.
Nothing.
"You could... I could..." Grace curled up under the fur again, looking quite crestfallen. Her knees were pulled to her chin and she rubbed at her legs, the chill setting back in. A brief glance to him and she removed the fur and whatever else gauzy material she'd been wearing.
A hard look to this Chief.
And she walked to the fire pit and stood in it. Or stood in it the best she could.
Blessedly warm. Grace forgot herself and gave a gentle sigh of relief at finally not being so cold.
Then her eyes snapped open and she stared at him.
"I'm a mage. Aren't you afraid of me?"
"I am not."
He watched her with a hard look of his own, eyes traveling over her small frame before they locked onto her eyes.
"We have our shamans here. Druids as well."
Well. Crap.
Grace's face fell and she quickly cast her eyes away.
There went her trump card. Sure she wasn't in Connlaoth anymore but... Wasn't magic feared everywhere except Serendipity? Her hands went to her stomach and she pressed at her ribs, not willing to leave the fire now that she was so warm.
"I'm... I'm no use to you. Can't you just... Take me somewhere and leave me there?" In her passion she'd done exactly what she didn't want to. Leave the fire. Her arm was out and she was aware she was naked but the giant orc of a ... Man? Didn't seem to care so Grace didn't think to remember it.
She wanted free.
Most of all Grace wanted to go home but that would never be an option.
"You don't want that."
Motark crossed his arms.
"It's nothing but orc territory for miles upon miles."
Grace moved closer, putting her hands on his arm. The hands that had just been in a fire and were quite hot.
"Then... What do you want from me? Why am I here!" She pushed at him, angry. Infuriated. "What are you going to do with me if you want to let me go but you can't?!" Grace even put airquotes around the word 'can't. Because he could! He just... Didn't want to.
Motark turned to fully face her. He stared down at her, and it was clear his patience was running thin.
"It was not my decision to bring you here. You were a peace offering from a rival clan. They paid for their lives with yours."
He leaned down a bit.
"If you want to brave orc territory on your own, then tell me. If you get captured again, you'll be lucky if they decide to kill you instead of keep you."
Grace shook her head, staring up at him.
This time she was unwilling to flinch away. He hadn't hit her. Yet. Nor had he yelled at her. Grace was going to push every boundary until she got burned for her. Metaphorically.
"Wait." A shake of her head and her hair poured over her shoulders like liquid, "Lucky if I'm killed? I don't understand. Being killed is bad."
Motark chuckled.
"If you get captured out in the wilds, you'll be raped. You'll be tortured, beat, and raped again. They'll rape you until they get bored. And then they'll kill you."
Motark looked away, as if delivering that information shook something up inside him.
"You were fortunate. Extremely so."
She could have been...
Grace just stared at him, eyes wide in a new sort of horror.
"Was that why they...?" Grace pressed a hand to her mouth and she shuffled backwards, if she hadn't been a virgin, she knew. In her bones she knew that's what would have happened to her. Looking at her arms, her legs, there wasn't a bruise on her.
Because she was a present. To this man. Orc.
"What do I call you?" She finally asked, looking at possibly the only sane creature around here.
"When we are alone, you may call me Motark. When others are present, you call me "Chieftain." Is this clear?"
Grace was about to ask, in horror, that they were going to be alone together before she realized, indeed they were and she was still naked. A brief glance down at her and a look to the fur in a pile on the floor she quickly scuttled over to it and pulled it over her shoulders.
Motark.
Weird name.
"Yes." She said simply, licking her lips.
"Do I get to keep my name? I read in a book once that slaves get different names." A brief look at him and then back down at the floor, "I am a slave, right? Or am I a pet."
"I have no use for a slave. Accessory is a better word." Motark said.
"What is your name?"
"Grace."
She said simply.
At least she wasn't a pet. Her hair was bunched over her shoulder under the fur and she looked around his home.
"If I'm not a slave, what am I supposed to do?" A grimace and she looked at the tent flap and then back at him. It was closed. They were alone. She swallowed thickly and ducked her head like she was trying to avoid notice.
"Grace," Motark repeated, his natural orcish accent giving her name a bit more pizazz than it actually had.
"I won't have you serve me, and I won't... use you, either. I do not yet know what I will do with you."
Grace pressed her hands to her chest and ducked her head down before looking up at him through her hair. He wouldn't use her.
"What..." A brief look around and she wrung her fingers together, "What should I do then?"
A moment of silence.
"Are you hungry?"
The word alone had her pause and she stared at him for a moment.
"Yes."
Well, she was more thirsty but hungry would do. She took a few hesitant steps closer, frowning down at the ground. Licking her lips she looked down at her hands before she bit her lip and took a deep breath.
Grace stared up at the giant of a man and took another hesitant step closer.
"I am. I think I ate the day before yesterday," A wrinkle of her nose," They offered me meat but... It was raw."
"Hmph," Motark let out quietly, and he motioned to his side. At one section of the room (There was no real rhyme or reason to the decoration) there was a basket of fruit that sat on a very low table. A table low enough that anyone using it would have to rest on their knees.
Motark stepped to it, and lowered down onto his knees. In the basket was a rather impressive collection of apples, peaches, and other temperate fruits.
[ lol. Hi Juras. ]
Grace took careful steps forward, licking her lips when she saw the apples.
It had been a rare treat at home, apples. She lived on the otherside of the country and when she'd been taken to the mage camp they'd been gone completely. Uninvited, Grace took a few steps closer, looking at the apples.
"Could I have one?" She asked quietly, her hunger making her far more bold than she'd be normally.
[WOWWWW THE DERP XP]
"Please do," Motark said, and he motioned towards the bowl. There was also a clay jug sitting next to it.
"Take whatever you please. There's water in the jug."
Grace ate ravenously.
The apples were crisp and she ate two before she even started to try and drink the water.
Despite having not eaten for a day though she could only stomach a few apples before she started to feel sick, sitting down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Those had been the most delicious apples she'd ever eaten.
Another hesitant look to Motark and she leaned closer, giving him a curious look. The heat from the fire had cooled down and she was disappointed to feel the coldness set back in. A state of being.
Before, when she was at home, she was usually in front of a kiln. Melting metals to craft jewelry. It wasn't world famous but it was famous in her little town and she'd known a few nobles wore things she'd made. Another look down at her fingers and she rubbed her finger tips together.
"Thank you," She said simply after finishing.
Now what?
"You're..." Grace looked at him for a moment before flicking her gaze downwards, "You're far kinder than I would have expected."
"One could say I was born into the wrong bloodline," Motark said, and he ate a peach.
"My tribe thrives on savagery, but I hate the needless violence. If they knew, though, I wouldn't be chief for long."
Motark sighed.
"I'm trying to change things, but... change takes time."
Grace rubbed at her arms, chewing on her lip before she moved closer.
It was alright to comfort someone who didn't want her as much as she didn't want to be wanted... Right?
Her hand pressed against his forearm as a sign of comfort but the heat that pulsed up her arm had her eyes close and she made a pleased little humming sound. It wasn't a fire. It was more and she'd forgotten about the comfort she was trying to offer and instead reached out with her other hand to press it to his arm.
"You're so warm," She stated. No doubt her own hands were warm, far warmer than any humans would be.
The comfort was forgotten and she simply stood there with her eyes closed, hands on his arm to soak up the heat.
Grace pulled a move that surprised even Motark, and he could only watch as she put both her hands on his arm. He got the intent to comfort of the first one, but after a while, she just seemed to be...
... soaking up his heat?
"You're cold?" he rebutted.
Eyes still closed, palms still flat on his arm and she nodded.
"Always. I'm not warm unless I'm right in front of a fire." Or in a fire.
Though quickly enough her eyes snapped open and she pulled her hands away from his arm like he'd burned her - an impossibility. "A downside to my magic. I'm... Always very cold." She snuck her hands back into the fur and held it tight around her shoulders, staring down at the ground, cheeks heated.
"And what is your magic?" Motark asked.
"Is it the ability to control fire?"
Grace looked to the fire pit and nodded solemnly.
When put that way it seemed much less impressive.
"I was... I made jewelry. Being able to control fire and handle hot things made it easy." She tried to smile at the memory, rubbed her fingertips together to remember. The sketches of the designs.
"I can't create it. But if it's there I can use it." A thoughtful look at the fire, "I've never tried to control it, I guess..." She remembered the flare of temper, "It's just part of who I am. So I never gave it much thought. Sort of... You're just big. Which means you're probably strong. I'm me... So... Fire is mine."
It made sense to her.
"An impressive skill, nonetheless. To be able to pass through flame completely unscathed..."
Motark looked about, and rubbed his bald head.
"I'm sorry that you ended up here, but I'll try and make your stay as comfortable as possible."
Again she stared down at her fingertips, lower lip caught in her mouth. The surprised gasp on her lips when she looked up at him. Grace stared, eyes wide up at the Orc.
Then down at herself.
Grace gave her toes a wiggle and pulled the furs tighter around.
"Do I have to stay naked?"
"No, I will arrange for clothing. You will also be staying here, in my tent."
He looked at her, all wrapped up in furs.
Grace swallowed thickly and looked around.
If she was to stay here... Looking around she shifted her weight and stared down at the ground.
"Thank you," she whispered, surprised to find kindness. Her hands were pressed to he chest, "how can I ever thank you?"
Motark smiled for a brief moment, but hi face levelled out again shortly afterwards.
"Just keep my kindness quiet. And if anybody asks, I used you, understand?"
Grace looked around.
"Used me?"
Confusion clouds her features and she gnawed on her lip. "Used me for what?"
Motark sighed.
"Use you as in... sexually."
Grace looked him up and down, eyeing him. Taking in the image of the large man. The words that fell out of her mouth weren't thought of and she pressed a had to her stomach.
"How?"
"Don't ask how, just... give that answer if anybody asks," Motark said.
"It's why you were brought to me. When they gave you to me as a gift, your purity was the real prize."
Grace went white. A few shades lighter than white and she gave a cautious swallow before she squeezed her eyes shut. Grace didn't even want to imagine any of that, though that didn't stop her from doing it. Her hands pressed to her stomach and she let out a quiet breath.
"What would happen if I said you didn't use me? Would I be given back?"
"No," Motark said, and he gave her a soft look.
"I would be called weak. Usurpers will challenge my power."
Motark picked up another peach.
"If one of them succeeds, you'll find yourself in much crueler hands.
A surprised look up at him.
"Are ... Are all of you so... Big?" Her eyebrows were slowly climbing up her forehead and she stared at him. A brief dance down a bright flush and she stared at his chest. Grace gently bit at her lip and rubbed her arms.
"No, but greater warriors than me have been killed by usurpers."
That red hue returned to her cheeks, and Motark could only wonder what that meant. She'd been doing it a lot!
"When your cheeks turn red... What does that mean?"
"It's... A blush. From embarrassment." She rubbed at her arms under the fur. Pleased that it retained heat so well. She was hardly shaking from the cold now. Grace closed her eyes and looked around the room, taking careful hesitant steps while she explored.
"I... Is there anywhere I shouldn't go?"
"Why would you be embarrassed?" Motark asked, filing away her question so he could answer it later.
Grace looked down at the ground.
The question just made her face heat up more and she pressed her hands to her cheeks.
"I looked at you and..." She swallowed, "you're a lot... Bigger than I am. And you mentioned using me so.." Again she ducked her head down, her hair being a thankful curtain from everything else.
"I understand now."
Motark cleared his throat, and after a moment of quiet, he spoke again.
"There are many places you shouldn't go. Additionally, you shouldn't be anywhere without me. It's not safe for you by yourself."
At least the nicest one - seemingly nicest one - was goin her helpful tips on how to stay unkilled. "Thank you... For the... Help, I guess."
The shivering set in again and Grace went and sat beside the fire, staring at it.
It didn't take long. Her eyes slowly shut and Grace fell asleep sitting up.
Motark watched her get up and sit by the fire, and when she closed her eyes and remained still, he figured that she was probably meditating or something. He got up, and resumed doing exercises, starting with pushups.
It wasn't too long before Grace was on her side, the blanket having slipped off her shoulder. Curled up in front of the fire with only her long hair to cover her. The shivering began, but it was such a common thing for her that being cold didn't wake her up. The Orc exercising did little to wake her up either, it mostly just made her dreams involve a lot of strange noises coming from various green animals she'd never seen before.
At some point, Motark finishes with his exercises. He knelt over the fire, and noticed that it had died out, and that Grace was fast asleep. Curious.
Had she not gotten sleep the night she was brought in?
Regardless, she had a whole day ahead of her. He walked to the fire pit and knelt down by it, and he used a thick metal cover to cover the fire and quench it. After that, he spoke.
"Grace."
The name had her eyes open and she stood up in a jolt, only to look down at herself, go several shades of red and grab the furs and pull those back over her shoulders.
"I'm sorry!" she shook her head, eyes wide, pupils dilated, clearly in fear.
"I didn't mean to!" Grace took a few steps back, away from his reach, "I... I'm sorry!"
"No, Grace, it's fine," Motark said, and he slowly stood up.
"I was waking you because I have to go to something. You're coming with me. I've figured out what to do with you."
Grace swallowed, looking down at herself and moved closer to Motark. If she was going to be going to places she wanted to be as close to the nice one as she could be. "Do I have to be naked?"
"No, you can keep the furs. And the clothes you came in with," Motark said.
"I've decided to use you as a status symbol. All you'll have to do is walk around with me. Be present. Sit on my lap sometimes."
Grace just stared at him, "I didn't get any clothing. It.. It was a see-through sheet." Grace rubbed her arms under the furs. A little frown, "how am I a status symbol? Isn't it easy to kidnap people?"
"Yes, but you're different. A pure, golden-haired and fair-skinned girl liek youself is like a jewel here. Just by having you at my side, the underchiefs and my tribespeople will recognize my power more. Some will see you as a positive omen, others as a sign of my economic wealth."
Motark smiled.
"It's also the easiest way to keep you safe here."
Grace looked at her hair, then touched her cheek. That sounded racist. Though she supposed blonde hair and pale pink-ish skin wasn't a thing amoung the giant green people. Grace chewed on her lip and nodded. "I... Thank you. For not..." Being a monster.
Ducking her head down she moved closer, "I'll do my best to... To make you look good."
"You don't need to thank me."
Motark stood up.
"I did order for clothes to be fetched for you, so they should be here shortly."
Grace gave a little nod and shrugged the fur off her shoulders. The man didn't seem to care about her naked body so she fixed her hair over her chest. Then the cold set in and the fur was pulled up over her shoulders again. She looked him up and down, his strange skirt.
"So... I'm just going to... Sit on your lap and look pretty?" That sounded easy enough she supposed.
"Yes. It's fairly easy," Motark said.
He walked to his armor stand and started to put on his armor. Meanwhile, the flaps to the tent opened, and a servant goblin entered with Grace's clothing.
It was a rather short cloth skirt dyed red with decorative chains that hung from the waist, a fur chest covering that accentuated whatever bust she had and kept her midriff visible, and a thin cloak made of beaver furs.
"It used to belong to an underchieftain's daughter. She outgrew the outfit, but It seems to fit you well."
Grace accepted the clothing, eyes to the ground with her head down.
He said to look used.
Grace wasn't really sure what that looked like so she supposed being all quiet and subservient would do. It wasn't unlike how she normally was so... That was good. Sort of.
Turning into a wall, she dropped the fur and quickly got dressed. Or at least tried to. The skirt was easy enough but Grace frowned at the ties on the chest covering. Did it tie on the side? Was that even what they were for?
After a few minutes of trying to tie up the chest piece she frowned at it. Fingers fumbling. Would she get yelled at for taking too long? Grace got it eventually and looked down at herself. Out of place. Her long blonde hair hung to her hips and her skin contrasted with everything on her.
Grace pressed her hands to her exposed midriff. It was just like being naked.
A gentle frown and she looked at the fur on the ground before she took a few steps forward, looking at Motark before hesitantly stepping beside him, curling her arms around herself while her heat seeped away. "I'm ready," She looked down at herself, not sure if she'd even put it on correctly, "I think."
Motark looked down at Grace, and he saw that her chest piece was a bit off. Promptly, he reached down and plucked it downwards a bit, evenign it out and making it more comfortable for her.
"Do not worry. Things will be fine."
Grace tried to smile up at him, but it was more of a grimace. At least her clothing was fixed. A quiet 'thank you' and she looked around, glanced at his hand. Was she supposed to hold his hand? Swallowing carefully she looked down at the ground and then at the tent flaps.
"What do I do now? Just... Be quiet and look... Happy? Sad?"
"I know it is difficult, but try not to look sad," Motark said.
He finished donning his armor, and with it on, he managed to look even more impressive, like one of the great warlords of ancient lore. Given his bloodline, that assessment would be more accurate than one might think.
"Are you ready?"
No.
"Yes."
Grace rubbed her hands on her arms and moved closer, tucking herself against his side as stare at the tent flap. A brief glance up at the green man and she hesitantly placed her hand on his arm. Grace was hesitant more than sad. This was still better than the Mage camps... Maybe.
[okay, so just for the sake of simplicity, anytime Motark is talking to anyone other than Grace or an orc is talking to Motark (or another orc), just automatically assume it's in orcish unless specified]
The hand on his arm got his attention, and he glanced down at her. He couldn't quite decipher her behavior, as he'd never dealt with anybody quite like her.
He motioned with his head, and started walking, taking her through the flap, into his throne chamber. One of Motark's guards approached them and spoke.
"The Underchiefs will be here shortly for the Moon Council."
Motark nodded, and sat down on his throne.
Was she supposed to stand beside him?
Grace did the only thing as could think to do. Besides not look sad.
After Motark had seated himself she gave him a hesitant look and sat on his lap. Her heart raced and she bit her lip in a nervous gesture before she looked over her shoulder at him, hesitant. Her hair was pulled over her shoulder and she waited to either be pushed off or pulled closer.
Grace's decision to sit on Motark's lap caught the momentary notice of the guards in the room, but they lost interest rather quickly.
Motark pulled Grace a bit closer.
"Don't be afraid to get comfortable, Grace. We're going to be here a while."
Grace looked at him, eyes wide before she leaned against his chest.
"You're so warm," she mumbled, pressing against him closer, glad to not have been pushed off. A brief smile at Motark and she shuffled to get comfortable. Which, ultimately was uncomfortable but better than nothing.
It was at that point when the entrance opened, and ten powerful looking orcs strode into Motark's tent. They all carried the iconography of the Red Sun clan, but they also had their own little quirks and additions to the designs. The Red Sun clan was an amalgamate of several smaller clans. A grand majority, no doubt, were Red Sun, but every tribe brought under Motark's fold had a representative.
An Underchief.
Not one to miss a chance for some theatrics, Motark wrapped an arm around Grace's midsection, as if claiming her to be his.
"Impressive bauble, chieftain," one of the Underchiefs remarked, motioning to grace.
"She was a gift. A rather nice one, as well."
The Underchiefs snickered amongst themselves. Motark continued to speak.
"Come then, let's get the Moon Council underway."
The Underchiefs all sat in two rows of five at the foot of Motark's throne.
The arm around her waist sent a shiver up her spine. That was sensitive flesh and not only was it exposed it was being touched. Grace hadn't exactly been a real lady but having someone's hands on her flesh was a new thing entirely and she wasn't sure she liked it.
Getting comfortable, she gave a weary look to the chieftains before she curled in closer to Motark. Lifting her chin a little before she rested her head against his chest.
The Moon Council wasn't exactly the lengthiest of affairs. Essentially, all of the Underchiefs would meet with Motark, and report on the status of the clans they represent. Decisions are made, comprimises are reached, and matters discussed.
All in all, the process took about two and a half hours, and when it was done, Motark rested his head backwards against his throne, stress evident on his face.
Grace had braided and unbraided her hair more times than she could count. Finally when it was all said and done and the other orcs had left she looked towards Motark. Her only chance of survival. Gently she gnawed on her lip, casting a look around the room before she gently placed a hand on his chest. Not wanting to speak just incase. She wasn't supposed to make him look bad. She was supposed to be a pretty bauble because then someone worse could get her.
Grace let out a slow breath, resting her cheek to his chest again and giving something that resembled a hug.
If she was nice to him... Maybe it would work in her favour.
Maybe eventually he'd let her go.
Motark didn't acknowledge the gentle hand placed on his chest, but he did feel it when she hugged him, right there on his throne. They were alone in the throne room for now, the guards having left in order to escort the Underchiefs.
Motark looked down at Grace, an inquisitive glimmer in those fiery red eyes of his.
"Grace?"
Her name had her sit up quickly and she cleared her throat, looking away. Feeling perhaps a little awkward.
"I'm sorry. You looked like you needed one."
Motark sighed, just a tad bit amused with Grace's awkwardness.
"I did. Thank you."
A hesitant little smile and Grace snuggled back into the warmth that Motark seemed to freely give.
"I can be your hug buddy," again, she was hesitant, chewing on her lower lip.
"Um. Earlier? Did I do wrong by sitting here?"
"You might've been a bit forward, but you did no wrong," Motark said, and he let grace snuggle up against him yet again. She really seemed to like doing that, didn't she?
"What's a hug buddy?"
"Someone you get hugs from when you're sad or lonely. Or when you just need one."
Grace closed her eyes, her voice drifting off. An attempt to peel her eyes open and she snuggled in farther. It didn't take long for the warmth to overcome her, and on her keepers lap, Grace fell asleep.
"I..."
Motark didn't get to finish, because Grace was now asleep on his lap, and watching her sleep made him tired as well. And he figured there was no harm in going back in for a catnap.
Motark tried to lift Grace in a way that wouldn't disturb her sleep. Preferrably into some kind of cradle hold or something.
A brief opening of her eyes and she looked up to see a green body.
A quiet moan and she snuggled closer, knees tucked up. A pleased hum and the angle of Grace's face against him caused some drool to happen.
The tucked up knees gave Motark the opportunity he was looking for, and he effortlessly picked her up, careful to disturb her as least as possible. He stood, and walked back into his living chambers. Her cot wasn't placed yet, so he did her the liberty of tucking her right into his bed, which was a primitive, yet comfortable affair comprised of thick, animal fur blankets and straw cushions so that it was at least a little bit soft.
He never noticed the drool.
Once Grace was tucked in, he went to his personal storage and went to retrieve his bedrool, so he could lay it out for future use by Grace.
The stress had caused her to be exaughsted.
Grace rolled over onto her stomach, one leg hitched up causing the strange little skirt to ride much too high to be decent. Another little moan and she snuggled deeper into the bed, oblivious to the world or her situation.
Everything was delightfully comfortable and it wasn't for a while that Grace woke up, blearily blinking at the ceiling. "Where...?" Her voice was soft and she sat up, looking down at her clothing and quickly pulling down the skirt. She'd fallen asleep again.
Grace quickly bit her lip to be quiet and rolled back onto her side to pretend to be asleep again.
Just as Grace rolled back onto her side, Motark came back in with his bedroll. He had to walk elsewhere in the camp to get it, as he'd forgotten he loaned it to somebody. He was oblivious to her awake state, so he just walked up to the bed and laid the bedroll down next to it.
Motark's bed was already rather low, as it was far from traditionally structured. It sat low to the ground and was rather wide, large enough for a whole group of average-bodied humans to share. He set up the bedroll, and stood up.
Curiously Grace rolled over, watching him from his bed.
It occurred to her then, that it didn't smell awful and it alarmed her to notice that at all. She supposed the fear she'd been going through the last bit of her life, she was clinging to the kindness the strange giant green man offered her. Without question. Grace wasn't even curious about what he wanted in return. If it kept her safe, she knew she'd do just about anything.
"Do you have any children? Or a wife?"
She finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Grace decided she might as well try to get to know her keeper.
Motark looked up when Grace spoke. He slowly shook his head, and sat down at the edge of the bed.
"Haven't taken a wife. Haven't sired an children."
A purse of her lips.
Another excercise in how far she can get before he shuts her down.
"Are you very old?"
Honestly she couldn't tell. Grace looked at him, having sat up, legs tucked under her. Her hair curled by her hip and she looked at his face. Mostly he just had a lot of teeth to her.
At her question, Motark seemed to delve into thought, as if counting up the years took him slight effort.
"I have been through twenty-nine summers."
Grace recoiled.
Twenty-nine?
He was twenty-nine?
"That's it?" Genuine disbelief at his age. There was no way. He must have meant something like twenty-nine hundred. Or... Two hundred or... Grace's eyebrows were high on her forehead and she just blinked widely at him. Twenty-nine.
"You can't be seven years older than me." It was mostly to herself. The size difference alone. Sure they weren't even the same species but... Grace just kept staring at him. Apparently, when she felt safe Grace turned into a chatty little thing.
Another hard look at his face, "Are you considered attractive to your kind?"
Motark was about to remark on Grace's own age (for he thought of her as nineteen, at most!), but her second question came straight of nowhere, and it gave Motark pause.
He let out something akin to a pleased huff, and he rubbed the back of his head.
"I am. I'm the most desirable male in the clan."
"Isn't that lovely," She smiled, sitting up straighter with her hands on her legs, palms down. Grace smiled before she shuffled a little closer. After being so warm, the idea of being cold again was a fate worse than death. Sort of. Not really.
"Do you..." a brief look around for any sight of hobbies, "Do anything for fun?" A purse of her lips, "Like... I make jewelry. And you..."
"I like hunting," Motark said.
"And gardening."
Grace tilted her head, gardening?
Gardening.
A brief look at his hands and she looked down at hers.
"I've never been hunting, but I've gardened." Another small smile, "I did some woodcarving once but I cut my hand so I didn't have fun with it anymore." What else? Something to make her seem human instead of just some unwanted treasure. Grace gnawed on her lip and rubbed her thighs again.
"What... What should I do?" she leaned in, giving him a curious look.
Motark looked at her, and he shrugged. He let himself lie back on the bed and he stared up at the ceiling.
"I'm not sure..."
Grace let out a careful breath and stared at him, shifting away when he laid down. A brief look up at the ceiling to see if he was looking at anything interesting and it was just a ceiling. Grace swallowed carefully and looked down at herself.
"Should I get undressed?" She said simply, going a little pale.
"Undressed?" Motark repeated, and he lifted his head.
"Are you going to sleep?"
Grace heaved out a sigh of relief and slunk off the bed, standing up and wandering around. Examining her new... Home, she supposed.
"No. I figured..." She looked at the bed, then at him, before trailing off. "What do... Do other's of your people have... Baubles like me? What do they do with them?"
Motark sat up, and looked at Grace.
"Some orcs take human slaves. It is not the most common, but it is accepted."
He clicked his tongue.
"But you don't have to worry about me doing anything to you. You were captured to appease me, so in a way, it's partly my fault that you're here. I will treat you with honor."
Doing anything to her.
Grace sat up a little straighter, eyes falling closed and letting out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Motark." She whispered, making eye contact. A little attempt to prove that she was indeed thankful.
"So... You just ... Have to take care of me now?" A little frown, "that doesn't seen fair. No one wants a pet they didn't plan for."
"Usually, orcs who are powerful enough to recieve pure human girls as gifts do not need to worry about planning for them."
Motark continued to look at Grace.
"Your hair is very long. I like it."
So he was a... Well off Orc. Apparently handsome. Grace's only concern was if he was nice or not and so far... He was. Which Grace was thankful for. His comment about her hair had her eyes snap up to him and she gathered it over her shoulder, looking at it.
"They wanted to cut it at the Mage camps," she started, running her fingers through it. "I screamed. I screamed and screamed, it was... The only thing I had left. The mordecai took my magic away, they hit me and beat me..." Lost in thought Grace wasn't actually thinking about the words she was saying, "so... Silly enough, my hair length was the only thing I had control over."
A few steps closer and she leaned forward slightly, "would you like to touch it?"
So, the humans enslaved each other? Or did Mages get enslaved? Motark found such a notion hard to believe (why would humans enslave each other when they had to worry about orcs?) but the emotion in Grace's voice decried it as truth. He had a clearer picture of her now. Someone who'd escaped enslavement by her own kind, only to find it again at the hands of his.
Motark reached out with a single arm, and pulled Grace into a one-armed hug.
Grace gave a little gasp and at first she tried to push away, but then the warmth set in and she curled her arms around what she could of him.
"Thank you," she said simply. Did he give her a hug because I looked like she needed one? She smiled a little, pressed her face to his chest and smiled.
"You looked like you needed one."
Motark lifted his other hand, and played with her hair a bit, threading it through his fingers.
"It's very soft..."
"I... you can play with it whenever, okay? You're nice so..." Grace bit her lip and ventured in snuggling closer, "you can play with it."
It felt odd, being called nice. Mostly because in order to keep the Red Sun clan running, he had to be anything but. Ruthless, terrible, a monster... those were words he felt more accurately described him.
But he could get used to nice. He continued to play with her hair, and it was clear that he'd never seen anything quite like it in his life. Orcs weren't really prone to being blonde, and hair this long? And this soft?
Completely nonexistent.
Grace pursed her lips and briefly looked around for a comb of some kind. Then she remembered her lovely keeper didn't have hair, so why would he have a comb? A brief look towards the fire and Grace relaxed as best as she could, eyes closed and giving please little hums.
(Wanna time skip a little? (8 I imagine life will be mundane while they get used to one another for the next few weeks.)
[I suppose we could. After a few weeks, would that then be the point where Grace starts sneaking into his bed for warmth, or not?]
Motark parted from Grace, and glanced around.
"I am going to rest. Perhaps sleep. I set up a bedroll for you besides my bed, in case you are tired as well," Motark said, and he turned away from her. As he walked to his bed, he let his fur kilt fall away (as it'd be uncomfortable to sleep with!) and he made quick work of hopping into bed and getting under the furs.
[I'll handle it ;D]
Grace's eyes went as wide as saucers as he unceremoniously undressed. Quick to turn red and quick to turn away, Grace just stared down at the floor before slinking to the bedroll and curling up in it back to Motark.
The nights were cold.
Actually, the nights were probably moderate, but for Grace they were cold. The fur helped, the warm room helped but it was just a natural state of being for Grace. To be cold. The days peeled by with little to do, he'd play with her hair and she'd putter around bored out of her skull. Sit on his lap during meetings. Ask him odd questions that supplied interesting answers but not quite what she was looking for.
It was a few weeks later that Grace woke up to a dark night, shivering. The drive to be warm was her only concern and it was only a few feet away. Dressed in the days clothes (Because there was no way in hell she was going to sleep naked) she crawled into Motarks bed, pressed against what flesh of her torso she could and promptly fell back asleep, no longer shivering.
The weeks that passed were dull not only for Grace, but for Motark as well. As much as he hated violence, it gave the gargantuan orc something to do. Weeks on end with no action meant he spent most of his days exercising, talking, overseeing the training of new warriors, and going on the occasional hunt.
Motark awoke silently one night. Motark's mass meant that he almost always slept on his back, so for him to feel an arm on his chest and a body pressed to his side (He also slept with most of his torso out of his sheets, as he rather liked the neutral temperature), he was immediately awake.
He berely stirred, howver, the only movement being to open his eyes. When he saw the golden hair and the fair skin, he knew it was only Grace.
So, he lowered his arm a bit, bringing it down so that it was loosely around her, and he closed his eyes again.
In her sleep, Grace had curled her arms around his and used his bicep as a pillow. So gloriously warm. A pleased little hum and she snuggled closer, or as close as she could, curling her knees up to trap his hand.
Motark's arm was definitely big enough for a small girl like Grace to just snuggle up to, but when she trapped his hand with her knees, Motark's eyes opened again. He slipped his hand out and merely laid it on her leg.
"Grace?" he whispered.
"Hmmm?"
Sleepy, the noise was a purr and she turned slightly, face towards Motark, eyes closed.
Motark turned his head to look at her.
"You can come under the covers too, if you want."
Another pleased hum and Grace helped herself to that. Under the covers, she tucked herself further against his side, facing away from him. "yer warm," she murmured, probably for the hundredth time since she'd been given to him.
Motark smiled at that.
"I know. You've told me."
Oddly enough, with Grace tucked between his arm and his side, he felt even more comfortable than he did before. He closed his eyes again.
"You're comfortable."
"Hmm." Her arm snaked up onto his chest, or at least she tried to, but he was too wide and her hand slipped down and curled back against her chest. "You keep making me eat," She mumbled against him, "Yer makin' me fat."
"You were so thin when you arrived," Motark said. Indeed, in a few weeks, Grace had gone from undernourished to normal, so she had more meat on her bones, and a more defined figure.
"You're healthier now."
"Makes me sad that you treat me better than my own country did," her voice was a little clearer. Still muffled but she snuggled in tighter, eyes squeezing shut. "I know I say this a lot but... Thank you." Her voice was wet with unshed tears and she curled her legs up.
"Why would the humans do that to one another?" Motark asked, and when she snuggled into him tighter, Motark brought his arm in more as well in so she could stay nestled between the warmth.
"They have enough to worry about with us orcs. Why turn on each other?"
"Connlaoth hates mages," she started, "We're a sin against God. So... We're kept away. Marked." Grace pressed her face to the bed, "If you're found to be a mage..." Grace swallowed and sighed, opening her eyes, but it was too dark to really see and she simply closed them again. Though she smiled, "I don't think there are orcs that far north. At least none I've ever heard about."
There was silence after her words, and then the sound of Motark shifting up onto his side.
He put his arm around Grace, and gave her a hug.
"You look like you need one."
Grace pressed her hands to her eyes to wipe away the unshed tears and she gave a startled laugh, leaning back and pressing her hands to his chest. "I appreciate it," she whispered, still smiling. Frowning slightly, she gave Motark a long look - as best she could in the dark - and frowned slightly, "You're so nice. Why don't you have a ... uh... Lady Friend?"
At her question, Motark's face grew a bit solemn.
"To tell the truth, it's because I'm nice," Motark said.
"All the women in this tribe are like the men. They care only for war and violence. They search for prowess in their men, and little more. Every day, I have to wake up, sit on my throne, and pretend to be ruthless. The only time I can be at peace is when I'm by myself. If I sought out a wife, I'd have to pretend at home, as well."
Grace found herself feeling sad for her new friend.
What an odd predicament he found himself in. One of the more sought after males in his clan and yet... Unwilling to go forward with anything because he was... Too nice. How odd. Then again, Grace hadn't gone out of her way to be courted. Hadn't even bothered trying to find a husband because of what she was.
That was all different though, wasn't it?
Her being a mage was bad. It was against God.
A brief nuzzle into the warmth and she sighed, "Maybe you could try to mellow her out." She suggested, leaning back again, "They can't all be mean and violent, can they?"
"It's not just that, they..."
Motark trailed off when she nuzzled his chest, and he went back to lying on his back.
"They've all got this view of me. As a conqueror, as a killer. If I take a wife, and she finds out, and tells the others... then everything I've done will be for nothing."
He looked at her.
"None of them are like you."
Grace sat up, propped up on her hands to smile at him, a tilt of her head and her curtain of hair pooled down onto the bed.
"I don't know how to tell you this, though I'm sure you've figured it out already..." Grace trailed of, lips pursed, "But I'm not an orc."
Motark remained on his back, looking up at Grace. He put his hands together on his chest.
"I am aware of that."
Pursing her lips she looked off to the side, "Have you considered taking... Someone not from your tribe?" Grace sat up, excited at the idea of playing matchmaker, her hands clapped together and she grinned wide.
"Maybe there are nice orcs and you two can be nice orcs in secret!" She tapped her hands at his arm, excited with the idea, "Nice orcs in secret together!"
"Hush, not so loud," Motark said, although he didn't stop her from tapping at his arm.
"How would I find someone from outside of my tribe?"
Grace looked around like she'd been scolded, hands pressing against her mouth before she looked around. "Go... Outside your tribe? I don't know how this works. Tell everyone you're looking for... Uh..." Grace shrugged, "fresh blood?"
"Grace, that's not how things work with orcs," Motark said.
He reached up and stroked her hair.
"You should get some sleep. I have to oversee the spring festival's preparation in the morning, and then attend it at night."
Motark opened his arm up. He smiled.
"You're welcome to share my warmth."
Grace frowned, muttered a quiet 'well it could' before she let her head hang down and decided to look a little dejected. When the arms opened up she curled into them, surprised and pleased that he hadn't ordered her to sleep on the bedroll where it was cold. It was nice, to make a friend when she'd only expected... Well. The worst.
Getting snuggly again she paused for a moment, "What's the spring festival?"
Motark smiled a little when Grace snuggled up against him, happy to help her fight off the cold that seemed to terrorize her at every turn.
"Well, we celebrate the harvest, fertility, and the planting of new seeds. There's drink, feasting, and ceremonial duels. It's also, well..."
Motark chuckled.
"Let's just say that after a few months, a lot of children are born."
"Why would..." Grace thought of it for a moment, frowning, "oooh... I see." Gently she bit her lip and while sleep was climbing into her eyes again, she decided to ask. A hopeful tone, "I don't have to go, to I?"
"You do have to go," Motark said.
Grace didn't know that orc language, but with how much she was listening to it she could probably repeat a political promise of some sort. If she could make the noises. "Fiiiiine," She sighed and made a little grumble before she rolled over, her back to his side, arms curled around his arm like a warm pillow and promptly fell asleep.
Motark continued to stare up at the ceiling of his massive tent. He could feel the gentle heaving of Grace's chest against his arm.
After several minutes of thought, he fell asleep as well.
Grace wasn't immune to nightmares, that much was obvious to her when the flesh against her bare stomach transferred into her dreams as much different things. Back at the mage camps. The threat of being killed. The thread of everything.
There was light from outside in the tent when Grace's eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly, flushed, breath heavy. Covered in a cold sweat. A quick glance around told her that Motark was still there and she was in his tent and not at the mage camps.
It was a conflicted set of feelings.
Relief to be here.
Where she was little more than a pretty bauble.
Grace left his bed, finding herself to be too warm before she pressed her hands to her face, going to a basin of water that wasn't used for drinking to splash some on her face. It didn't take long for her to kneel in front of the fire pit to stare at the charcoal, her fingers on her knees while she calmed herself down.
The shivers didn't take long to set in, but she hardly noticed, so consumed with staring at the fire pit.
Grace had a good half hour to herself before Motark finally stirred. He sat up and stretched, woken by the light filtering in through the hole on the top of his tent and by Grace's absence.
He saw her then, kneeling by the dead fire. Not thinking much of it, he stood from bed, not at all caring that he was naked and that all his impressive bits were on display. He stretched again.
"Good morning, Grace," he said, and after he stifled a yawn, he took his fur kilt off the edge of his bed and slipped it on.
"Good moo---Oh dear." Grace looked away quickly, red faced and went to staring wide eyed at the fire again. Whatever she'd been grumpy about or thinking about was replaced by the image of... Grace cleared her throat and tried to think of flowers and puppies. Perhaps some bunnies.
Apples.
Apples were a safe thing.
"Did you sleep well?" She asked the floor because she knew that if she looked at him again she'd think of things.
"Very well," Motark said, and he joined Grace by the fire after he got his kilt on.
"What about you?"
A brief glance over and she tried to smile.
"I... Was very warm all night," Grace smiled, "Thank you."
A look towards the tent flap, "Do I get to be with you all day?"
"You do," Motark said.
A moment of silence.
"What's wrong, Grace?"
She rubbed her hands together and pulled her hair over her shoulder, braiding and unbraiding her hair.
"I just... Had a bad dream." Grace stood up and smiled before she plucked at her clothing, "Do I get to wear a fancy outfit at this spring festival thing?" She asked quickly to change the subject, "Someone elses child's clothes, maybe?"
Motark laughed rather loudly at Grace's little joke.
"Yes, I was going to have something better given to you. For now, though, I desire a bath."
Motark yawned.
"Do you want one too?"
"Yes!" Grace jumped at the idea of a bath before she really thought of it. Then again, when had he cared about her being undressed? Never. She just wouldn't look at him, it'd be fine. Or something. "I would love a bath," though she paused and gathered her hair over her shoulder.
"Do... Uh... Do we bathe together?" Seemed like an honest enough question.
"I am going to be honest with you, it is either that, or you wait outside for me to finish. By yourself."
Motark gave her a look.
"We can just take turns in the bath while sharing the room."
Grace didn't want to be alone. Not here
"I'll go with you. It's fine." She'd rather be with Motark than alone here. Someone might take her. Might do... Bad things. "Let's go! I'll let you wash my hair."
Motark smiled faintly and stood up, offering Grace a hand for when she stood up. He motioned for her to follow, and exited the tent.
"There are small buildings dedicated to bath chambers all over the village. It was my idea to erect them," Motark said.
"My personal bathouse is just a short walk away."
Personal bath house? Grace looked up at him as surely as she pressed as close to his side as she could. For an Orc chieftain who lived in a tent, having a personal bathhouse was fancy. Carefully she slipped her hand into his, looking around before casting her eyes down at the ground. It was a brisk pace for Grace, remembering to ask the next time they walk anywhere, could he just carry her please?
One step for him was a quick little shuffle for her.
Impatiently she looke at the tents, eyes the are around them. Having not spent much time outside of Motark's tent, everything was relatively odd looking and Grace decided the less she knew now the better. "Is that it?" She questioned, pointing to the place they were walking to. It seemed like a resonable deduction.
While the whole clan new about Motark's "little doll" (as they all called her), the fact that Grace hadn't really been out that much meant that she was still looked at with a little suspicion and hatred every time she went out. Motark himself wasn't used to walking slow for anyone, so he hadn't yet learned how to walk slowly for Grace's sake.
Sure enough, Grace called out the bathhouse as they approached it. Another tent, this time with a more permanent structure to it and a wide door instead of a flap. It wasn't large, but it wasn't exactly time either. Steam billowed out of the top.
"It is!" Motark said.
"The shamans and druids helped me come up with the design for them. They have ever-burning flames beneath them, so they never need to be restoked."
Imagine how great a country Connlaoth would be if they let mages work. Grace smiled at Motark, making an appropriate noise of interest before she went to the door. "Well?" Grace looked over her shoulder and gave an impatient wiggle, "I want a bath!"
"Go in, I am right behind you," Motark said, and he opened the door for her.
The bathhouse was comprised of a pretty decent-sized basin, set into the floor and filled with pleasantly steaming water.
"do you remember where the hamper is?"
Grace was naked - furs in the hamper - and in the bathtub in minutes. Eyes closed as a pleased little him, she dunked her head to get the rest of her wet and turned away with a pleased look on her face. Pleasantly warm. A brief glance over her shoulder - at Motark's head and not anywhere else - Grace sunk to her chin and looked like a cat that caught the canary.
"So, you said you wanted me to wash your hair?" Motark said as he let his fur kilt drop to the ground.
He stretched again, and let out quite the yawn.
Did she want him to?
Grace gathered her hair into a single bunch before she looked over her shoulder at up. "You don't have to..." Clearing her throat she looked at it in the water, looking like spungold. It was strange how enchanted she was with her hair now. Probably simply because someone else found it so lovely.
"It's always nice to have someone else wash or brush your hair though, it's..." Grace looked thoughtful, "Soothing?"
"I think it'd be nice," Motark said, and he stepped down into the basin with Grace, his size displacing a rather impressive amount of water.
It occurred to her than that she was naked in a tub with a man. Luckily, a man that had no interest in her besides how pretty her hair was and when she looked like she needed the occasional hug. Presenting her back to him, she pulled her hair from the water, "Tell me about this festival."
"It's very important to us," Motark started, and while his kind didn't have any soap, ground up flowers mixed in with oil served as a passable substitute.
"Like I said before. Drinking, feasting, dances. Merriment in general," Motark said.
"And peace."
Merriment.
Grace smiled and looked over her shoulder at Motark, not excited, but looking forward to it at least. It would be interesting to watch, at least. The drinking part didn't seem all that appealing but Grace's mind trailed off while she thought about it. A bunch or orcs having a party. Who would ever think they'd see that and live.
"I bet your favourite is that last one." She teased, glancing over her shoulder again.
"You know me well," Motark said, and applied the oil to her hair. He made sure to lather and rub it in.
"DOn't worry, it won't be boring."
"Won't be boring for you," she corrected, eyes closed and enjoying the fingers in her hair. Sure the fingers weren't super graceful or overly gently, she only gave one grunt of pain when he pulled too hard on a chunk of hair.
Grace really was a strange doll for him.
That brought a strangely amused smile to her face and she looked up at the ceiling, "So, I guess of it's a spring festival, you'll be gardening soon?"
"I will!" Motark said, the excitement clear in his voice.
"The weather's going to be perfect for flowers."
Grace laughed, looking at Motark in surprise.
"Is your garden a secret?"
"Sort of," Motark said.
"The tribe knows about it, but I told them that all great warriors need a hobby. Something to reflect on after the battle."
Motark laughed.
"Submerge yourself."
Grace ducked under the water for a few seconds popping back out of the water and taking a big breath, pushing her hair from her face and turning around with a wide grin. "Thanks. I even smell like flowers now."
"That you do," Motark said as he took a draft of the air with his nose.
He sat down in the basin, putting his arms up on the rim.
"So good..."
Grace chuckled, "me or the bath?"
Ever since her stint in the Mage camps Grace had taken a new love of baths and being clean. Looking over her shoulder she moved through the water, her hair a cloud around her. Closing her eyes she rested her head against Motark's chest and wiggled her toes out of the water
"So. What do your people think of me? I got some pretty nasty looks when I dont stare at my feet."
Perhaps it was an instinctual reaction, because when Grace set her head against Motark's chest, he put a forearm around her.
"They see you as what I said you are. They think you're a toy of mine."
A toy. Those were some nasty looks to a toy.
Grace smirked, "they don't like me because I'm your toy?" Grace pursed her lips, "do I have to go with you to your festival?"
"They probably think I'm too soft with you," Motark said.
Motark gave her a look.
"And yes, you have to go."
"Well..." Grace started, looking at the strangest location of 'nice' she'd ever met. As proud as he was of his bloodline, Grace found herself wondering if he was born in the wrong body. "You are," she nodded, "you're very nice to me. But..." A brief look over her shoulder and she gave a sly little smile, "I won't tell. It's our secret."
His confirmation got little from her besides a grumpy 'hurumph' and folded arms.
"It will be fun, Grace. Please don't be grumpy," Motark said, and he motioned to himself.
"Come here. Let's take some time to relax."
"Fiiiiine," she grumbled. Clearly refusing to not be grumpy. So, Grace curled up against Motark, eyes closed, smelling of flowers. A beat and Grace grinned widely, "you'll smell like flowers, too."
"I do not mind," Motark said.
He sighed comfortably when Grace curled up against him.
Grace wasn't sure how long they'd been in the bath but before long she looked at her hands, fingers pruny. A chuckle and she shifted, holding out her hands for Motark to see, "I think we've been in here for a while," she teased.
Motark looked down at his fingers, the tougher skin only wrinkling a fraction of the amount of Grace's. He looked up at her hands, and took one of them into his hand. It dwarfed hers, as usual.
"Yes, we should get going."
Grace smiled all the same, standing up, her plastered to her body, though it left nothing to the imagination. Not that her strange green friend thought of her was anythig other than a tiny pet. Grace stretched her arms high above her head, giving a pleased sleepy moan. "Do we get ready now or nap until we go so we can stay up all night?"
"A nap sounds good," Motark said, and he rose from the water, glistening.
"I have to go make sure the preparations for the festivals are underway. If you want, you can wait for me in my chambers. I'll only be an hour or two."
Grace looked over and again, quickly turned away, several shades of red because she saw him naked. Again. Quickly enough, she removed herself from the tub after wringing her hair and stared down at the ground while she got ready to head back to motark's tent. "I take it you're excited for the festival?" She ventured, not looking at him again just in case.
"I am! It is my favorite of the whole year," Motark said. He smiled again, but it quickly fell away.
"You'll have fun there. Maybe drink a little?"
Grace looked down for a moment before pursing her lips and rubbing her hands together and then looking at him a little confused. "Okay. I'll try to have fun," Sort of. She'd drank before, if that's what he meant. A glass of wine after she'd sold her first piece of jewelry. Grace smiled, tilting her head and stretching, "I'm ready when you are! Though I suppose you need to cover your... Uh..." she wiggled her fingers, "Stuff."
Motark glanced downwards, getting a view of their naked bodies quite close to one another.
"Well, it is either have fun, or do not. Not a difficult decision," Motark said. He brushed against her as he walked past, picking his fur kilt up off the ground and putting it around his waist.
He turned back to Grace, and put a hand on the side of her neck, stroking a cheek with his thumb.
"I'll be out for an hour, maybe two. You're gonna wait for me in my tent?"
His hand on her cheek had Grace close her eyes, giving a little shiver. Such a strange situation she was in. Her hand moved over his and she nuzzled against it.
"Yeah, I'll stay in your tent. Probably nap." She smiled, warmed up and sleepy. "Walk me back?"
"Of course," Motark said, and he put a hand on the small of her back so he could usher her out of the bathhouse. It was a bit pasr morning (they'd awoken at sunrise), but the sun still had a bit to go before reaching its peak.
"I never knew humans could be so sleepy."
Grace laughed, blushing at the sly insult. "I think it's because of my magic," Grace shrugged and let herself be led along. Maybe it was because of the magic. Maybe it was because she went from one prison to another. Grace yawned, her hand pressed over her mouth. "I don't know, but at least it mass time go faster."
"That it does."
Now that the village was waking up, there were more orcs out and about. They arrived at Motark's tent and he motioned to the interior.
"I will see you when I return."
Grace gave a little nod, curled up on her bed and quickly fell asleep. Not only did the day go by faster that way, she didn't have to think about where she was.
Motark was gone for little more than an hour. Mostly, he just had to make sure the everything was underway on time and that there weren't any glaring issues for the preparation.
When he returned, he stretched his arms as he stepped into his chambers. He looked over to Grace, curled up on her bedroll, and he chose not to disturb her. Instead, he merely stripped and slipped into bed.
Grace sat up when she heard noises, blurry eyed and weary. It took a few moments for her to relax because what if it wasn't Motark? Grace shuddered and looked around, relaxing when she realized he was in his bed. A moments pause and she slinked her way back into his bed, curling up against him.
Motark had barely gotten settled into bed when a somewhat familiar weight made itself present on his bed, and he looked over to Grace just in time to catch her curling up against him.
He smiled, and put his arm around her, as he did before.
And as before, Grace curled around his arm like it was a pillow. His hand caught between her knees while she snuggled in and got comfortable, pleased with the warmth and not being pushed away. "Does the festival last all night?"
This time, Motark didn't maneuver his hand away, but it remained between her knees, fingers curved around one of them.
"Most of the night. The sleep we get now will definitely see us through it."
A pleased little hum, Grace wriggled closer and gave a sleepy nod. Probably see him through it, Grace knew that she'd be tired again in no time. "Okay," she gave a sleepy mumble, "wake me up when you need me," she mumbled, half asleep again, though, shortly enough, she was passed out.
Motark nodded, and he closed his eyes. He found Grace's habit of curling herself around his arm to be rather amusing. He was surprised with how comfortable she was with him, given everything. He was trying his best to make her stay with him somewhat positive. It wasn't his fault that she was with him, but he still felt obligated nonetheless.
He fell asleep, and shortly after, he found himself attracted to her warmth. He actually turned onto his side and put another arm around her midsection.
When Grace woke up, she was curled up tight in a set of warm arms and she snuggled back into Motark's chest before she remembered it was him. Grace blushed heavily at how she'd snuggled up to his arm, trapping his hand between her knees in her sleepy state because now it was high in her thigh. Grace wasn't sure if it was gratitude that kept her from shoving herself away but she remained where she was and gave a content little sigh.
A brief look around the tent and she shifted slightly, skin tingling under the hand at her waist before she stretched her arms up and gave a little wiggle. "You're gonna miss your festival!" Which was untrue, but he had to get ready, right? Grace wasn't sure what that entailed, but she was sure it took longer than five minutes.
Still, she didn't leave his arms, of push his hands away, finding herself too comfortable to even try.
Motark stirred slightly when she spoke out loud, and his eyes cracked open.
Just like her, he chose not to remove his hands, or push her away from his chest, because he was just too comfortable as well.
"I should..." Motark said, but he made no movements.
Grace's shivered. It was a strange shiver because she wasn't cold. Grace gnawed on her lip, moving slightly before she sat up, knees tucked under her. "You were so excited," she gave his shoulder a nudge before she leaned on him, elbows down to prop up her head. "We need to get me pretty clothes so I can be your pretty doll, hmm?"
Motark groaned ever so lightly when Grace actually put her elbows on his side and propped herself up on him. He turned onto his back, something that would leave Grace stretched out over his abdomen.
"Are they here?" Motark asked.
"They should be by the door."
[I'm gonna leave it up to you to determine how Grace's festival clothes look]
Grace shimmied away from Motark after he claimed her new festival clothing was by the entrance, taking her time she moved towards it and sure enough. Folded clothing. Grace picked it up, more cloth than fur this time, more loin cloth than skirt. At least it covered the important bits. Ties along the side, Grace got dressed quickly, using the shadows and her long curtain of hair for cover and when she was done it was clearly made for a doll.
Exposed up to her waist, the fabric was held down by a few ties, easily removed. Grace blushed down at it, smoothing the fabric and leather. "I'm going to be cold in this," she stated. Still, Motark had said it was a festival and that there was peace. She's been here long enough to realize how important that was to him. He'd been so nice. She could suck it up and be The Dolly for a night instead of the captive.
Sashaying to Motark, she swished her hair and spun. "How do I look?" It had better be good for orcs because Grace was sure she wouldn't have been caught dead in the back in Connlaoth.
Motark sat up and looked at Grace as she sashayed and spun, giving him a pretty good look at her from all angles. Indeed, she looked like a little parcel. All it'd take would be to undo the loose ties at her side, and, well...
... she'd be pretty easy to unwrap.
"You look good. Like a dancer," Motark said, and he rose from bed. Rather than go for his skirt as usual, he walked past her to an area of his chamber that held a few chests. He opened one up and knelt down in front of it.
A dancer. Grace smiled, looking down at herself and smoothing the fabric away. Not looking at Motark while he wandered past she gave him a glance, though and moved closer to hover over him. "What are you looking for?"
"My own clothes," Motark said, and he stood from the chest. The very first thing he got on was yet another kilt, except this time, it was made of cloth, much like Grace's skirt. It was a vibrant red, and it went down to knee-length. After that, came a large fur cloak that reached all the way down to his shins. The cloak itself was mounted onto leather shoulder pads, which were strapped on by buckles.
He would receive the rest of the outfit at the ceremony.
"Are you ready?" Motark asked as he turned to face Grace.
Grace heaved a sigh - though she guess she could appreciate how fancy Motark looked, and folded her hands over her chest. "Yeah, I guess I'm ready." Another glance down at herself and she stepped forward, hand out. "I get to stay by you the whole time, right?"
"You do," Motark said, and he took her hand, leading her outside.
When they arrived at the festival, it was clear that almost the entire clan was there. A gigantic patch of tents had been cleared out to make space for a massive bonfire. It was nearing sundown, and various orcs, all wearing festive clothing, filled the remaining space. There were musicians all over the clearing, giving each part of the clearing its own unique sound, and there were stands set up so food and drink could be distributed. There was a small stage set up in front of the bonfire, but it was unoccupied at the moment.
When Motark arrived, everyone acknowledged his presence, before two orc women approached him.
Motark looked to Grace.
"They're going to give me the rest of my outfit now. Once I have it, we'll light the fire, and the festival will begin officially."
Grace gave a little nod, looking around. Feeling self-conscious. The chieftains little doll, that was all se was, right?
She hung back until Motark explained what was going on, Grace gave a little smile, hands tucked in front of her. "Okay." Still, she tried to make herself look as small as possible while she waited.
The orc women wasted no time. Motark spread his arms out, and they started adorning him with bright feathers. One of them put a ceremonial headdress on him, while the other started doing designs on his skin with red paint.
The process took a few minutes, but when it was done, Motark looked more like a shaman than a chieftain. He looked to Grace.
"Well? How do I look?"
Swallowing carefully Grace simply nodded at Motark, looking him up and down.
"Like a... Ceremonial Orc." She smiled, smoothing her clothing again before she nervously bit her lip. A brief look over at him and she moved closer before looking around, "what should I do?"
"Well, you're a fire mage. Do you want to help light the bonfire?" Motark said, and he started to walk to the stage.
Grace shook her head violently, "I can't make fire." Going a little pale, she looked up at Motark, eyes wide. "I can just... Control it."
Motark tilted his head a bit, and place a hand on Grace's shoulder when she looked a bit shaken.
"Relax, Grace," he said.
"How can you control it?"
"I just... do." Grace licked her lips, "I just need a spark. And then..." She shrugged, "fire." Grace tried to smile, leaning into his hand. "Would I be allowed to? Aren't I just your doll?"
"It'd be a rather impressive display," Motark said.
"So, if I spark the bonfire, are you sure you can get it raging?"
Grace nodded, going cold at the idea of doing bad. Something inside her made her want to make him proud though. Make him happy on some level that he kept er. That he hadn't just turned her over to his clan to do with as they will.
A lick of her lips, a roll of her shoulders and she closed her eyes. "Yes. I'm sure. I... I am fire."
Motark laughed.
"I do not doubt that," Motark said, and he motioned up to the stage with one hand, and took her hand with the other.
"Shall we?"
Like a dancer, he said.
Her steps were graceful, the sleek lithe body helped in making each step a smooth one, her hair swayed behind her. Grace closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, on the stage, facing the unlit bonfire. All she needed was a spark and she'd show him. It would roar. Practically be alive.
Motark stepped up to the front of the stage, and began his speech in orcish. It was several things, all wound up into one. A toast to the clan's god, gratitude for a bountiful harvest, and other festive topics. His speech went on for several minutes, and for the entirety of it, he had the crowd absolutely spellbound. When he finished, they cheered.
A young orc boy stepped up to the stage holding a torch, and Motark took it into his hands. He held it up high and commemorated it before turning towards the bonfire and tossing it in.
Grace had been facing the bonfire, staring at the wood while Motark spoke. There were a few words she understood, but they didn't let her in on what he was talking about and she looked over her shoulder briefly when she felt the warmth of the torch.
When the torch went in, Grace knew that it would be slow to start. She could help it though.
Heart hammering, Grace moved, the fire licking up the wood like a dance. There was no music, but Grace moved the flames up, higher and higher until it engulfed the fuel. Enchanted by it she reached forward, into the fire, letting the flames lick her finger tips and she closed her eyes and smiled, shivers running through her.
She hadn't been in fire since that first night. When she wanted to scare her keeper but did little more than make him interested in the slightest amounts. Letting her hand fall to her side, she turned around, looking to Motark while the bonfire raged behind her. "Is it okay?"
The crowd watched with curiosity as Motark tossed the torch in, and Grace went to work. She moved her arms, and the bonfire, which usually took much longer to set into a blaze, raged up to full strength immediately.
The crowd burst into cheers, and when Grace turned back, Motark was beaming at her. He took her hand, and raised it high, and the crowd only cheered harder.
The music started back up, and people started to celebrate properly. Drank started to be handed out, dances started up around the bonfire.
Motark turned to Grace.
"That was amazing!"
Grace gave a pleased little smile, ducking her head down. "Thanks," she looked at his hand and a chill set over her, a little shiver - but not from the cold - and she looked around. "I hope you have fun, Chieftan," and Grace smiled again, getting ready to head back to his tent. All he'd wanted was for her to set the bonfire, right?
"Won't you stay a while, Grace?" Motark asked.
Motark stepped down from the stage.
"I think you'll like the festival."
Grace bit her lip, looking around. Feeling very out of place.
Still, this was her home now, or something, right? Grace took a careful breath an nodded, moving closer to Motark, plastered against his side. "Okay, I'll stay. As long as you want me to," she tilted her head to give him an odd look, "I'm yours, right?"
Motark smiled, but it wavered slightly at Grace's last words.
"I don't want to make you do something you don't want to," he said, and put a hand on her cheek.
A gentle nuzzle into his hand and she closed her eyes, looking up briefly before smiling. "I do. I just... Feel out of place," Grace smiled again, "if I didn't want to do something... You would know. I'd kick and scream." A brief look down at her clothing and she shifted her stance, "how do orcs dance?"
"Well, it involves, er..."
An orc couple whirled by them in a rather aggressive dance, the complexities of it lost on the unitiated.
"How do humans dance?"
Grace stared at the couple and looked to Motark, smiling a little. "Maybe I'll just watch," she nodded, "you said to have a drink? I'll have a drink and watch them- and you- dance."
"I'll have a drink with you," Motark said, and motioned to one of the stands. Were he a regular orc, they might've had difficulty maneuvering through the crowd, but all made way for the chieftain. The tribe knew he wasn't much for dancing anyways. Much too large.
An orc boy chasing a pair of girls ran by them, and Motark paid it no mind.
They arrived by the drink stand, and after a few words in orcish, the keeper gave Motark two big mugs of whatever the hell they were drinking.
It was a mixture of ales, narcotic herbs, and a powerful aphrodisiac, all mixed in with. Of course, it completely slipped Motark's mind to actually explain it. Not that he actually knew what was in it, anyways. All he knew was that the druids brewed it to get people merry.
"This is our spring festival drink," Motark said as he handed a mug to Grace.
"The druids brew it in secret. I don't know what's in it, but it gets people merry enough."
The few moments alone were - she would admit- frightening. She'd only seen other orcs during the times she was plastered to Motark's side and he was doing chieftan things. So, when he returned with mugs of stuff she offered him a little hesitant smile and took it, looking down at it and suddenly feeling like her eyes were bigger than her stomach. A hesitant little sip and she tried to fight a grimace.
Probably an acquired taste.
So, to be polite she took to sipping it slowly, watching the orcs have fun and smiling over at Motark. "I can see why you enjoy this," She said motioning to the festival, "I don't really like it," She mumbled, looking down at the drink, "But my mother said it was impolite to not finish what you're given so... " Grace swallowed, "Do I have to finish all of it? I don't think I can fit all that in me."
"It is a traditional drink. Finishing it brings good fortune," Motark said, and took a swig of his.
"I must confess, I am not much for orcish dancing. I'm much too large," Motark said, and he chuckled.
"How do the humans dance?"
Finishing it brought good forture. Grace stared at the mug and took another gulp of it, face contorting to grimace after swallowing. If anyone here needed good fortune it was probably her. One prison to a gilded cage. Not that she minded the cage here. In fact, if she was to stay here, she much preferred it to being free. Grace shuddered to think of what life would be like if she hadn't been given to the Too Gentle Motark.
Slowly, she cast a glance to her keeper, staring at him for a few moments before smiling. "I think you're a little tall," She teased, taking another drink, smiling at the warmth in her cheeks, "But i'll show you." Another gulp, "When I'm done this," She eyed the drink, "I already feel all warm," She scrunched her shoulders up and gave a pleased little sigh, cheeks flushed.
"I could use all the good fortune I can get," Another smile and she stuck her tongue out at the chieftan, before remembering just where she was and giving a quick little glance around. She was his pet, surely that meant she was allowed to get away with more, right?
Even if sticking your tongue out to the chief was punishable by death, nobody here was paying attention to anybody but themselves or their dance partner.
Motark smiled at her, and stepped a bit closer. He swigged down the rest of his (for it was a small mug for him!) and set it down by the stand. He stepped over to Grace, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"How do you like the festival? I don't think we've ever had an outsider her during it."
Grace was apparently more competitive than she let on, because she finished her mug as well. Sure it took a little longer and she felt full after but she smacked it down on the stand, feeling light headed and warm. A bright smile up at Motark and she stood up, smoothing her clothing down and pulling her hair away from her back before stretching her arms up high.
"It's..." A brief look around, "Interesting. A little more... Rough and tumble than back home but..." She smiled and shrugged, "We're not orcs. Our dancing isn't quite as..." she watched a pair and their strange dance, "We dance more... Fluidly." She looked down at herself, "There's less to move."
When she set down the cup, Motark patted her shoulder, smiling proudly down at her.
"Perhaps we can go back to my tent? You can show me," Motark said.
A brief look over at him, then back to the festival.
A confused little frown, and she pouted at him, "You don't want t-to," Grace hiccupped, gave her head a big of a shake and continued, "To be with..." She nodded to the group before she slowly slipped her hand onto his arm, entranced by the tingling feeling.
"I could show you," She chirped happily, proud of herself for finishing that whole drink, though now the idea of showing him to dance like a human was a great idea and she grinned, throwing her hair over her shoulder and tugging on his hand. "Let's go!"
Motark followed along, letting Grace think that she was actually tugging him, and for some reason, he found himself alright with leaving the festival. After all, he'd seen it every year for his whole life.
What was so wrong with missing it just once?
It was a quick walk back to his tent, a mix of excitement and drink helping to pass the time rather quickly. They entered his tent, and before Motark knew it, he was standing in his room.
He looked down at Grace, and smiled.
"Show me."
Once they were back in his tent, Grace heaved out a sigh of relief. Like a weight was lifted and she stretched up high again, shifting her stance to press her chest forward. Show him how to dance like a human.
Grace chewed on her lip, like one of those ladies?
It felt like that was the kind of music that drifted into the tent. The beat. Grace began to dance, undulating her hips, feet sliding along the floor. Her long golden hair an accent to the dance when she twirled, running her hands up along her body. The fires in the tent moved with her, an unintentional side effect.
She got lost in her little dance, wanting to prove her worth to the beat of the music. Wanting to show the large orc just how much better humans were at dancing ( were they really? ) and while she was no dancer, she worked a sweat up, forehead glistening. Towards the end she'd moved closer to Motark, eyeing him up and down like he was meat to be served for her.
Grace wasn't really thinking about how strange it was for her to be eyeing the giant man in a new light. While she didn't care for the tingling feeling in her belly or how sensitive her skin was or how the fabric clung to her now, like a second skin from her dance. By the time she finished her little burst of energy, she was on her knees in front of him, breathing quickly, head down. A quiet little chuckle and she looked up at him through her messy hair, "I think I got a little carried away."
Motark watched Grace's dance with great amusement, watching as she worked up something fierce. It was a passionate dance that Motark was surprised Grace had in her. When she finished on her knees in front of him, Motark merely opted to give her a few claps. He reached down, took her by the waist, and helped her up onto her feet.
"That was quite the dance," Motark said, and he took a hand off her waist. He brushed her hair out of her face with his free hand, then rested it on her cheek.
A bright blush and Grace bit her lip, leaning into his hand.
"It's more interesting when there's more people," she stated, like it was a fact and that she hadn't just been moving about because it felt nice and like she needed to. Eyes closed, she nuzzled into his hand and shuffled closer, "that feels nice," was her simple words. Which he knew already. Though this time it wasn't because his hand was warm. It just felt nice.
"You can go back, if you want," she offered him, looking to the tent entrance and then back at him.
"I..."
Motark looked out towards the entrance, and sighed.
"I'd rather stay with you, Grace," Motark said, and he took her hands.
"You are just so kind, and gentle... I rather like being alone with you."
A pleased little smile and she ducked her head down, looking down at their hands.
"Well, dance with me?" She took his hand, placed it on her waist and held his other arm with her hand, "Might be awkward, your legs are a lot longer than mine."
"I'm sure we'll pick it up," Motark said, holding her a bit more firmly by the waist and making sure he didn't stretch his arm out to much. He looked down at her, and grinned.
"So, is this another human dance?"
Grace guided Motark through the steps, a ballroom dance, much inappropriate for a festival but she smiled up at him anyway and nodded. "This is... What ladies and men do at fancy dinners, with a band and champagne," A simple nod and she shivered at his hand on her waist. Had her waist always been so sensitive?
A gentle little frown, "I feel warm," She stated.
"Champagne?" Motark repeated, and once he got a few of the steps down, Motark proved to be a rather quick learner. They just sort of danced in a random direction, and happened to be by the bed.
"Warm how?" Motark asked.
He held her a bit closer, making the dance more intimate.
"Champagne. It's... Bubbly and..." Grace gave a little shrug, "For special occasions. Fancy parties." A little smile while they danced and she smiled up at him, giving another little shrug, "I don't know. warm inside," She smoothed her hand up and down his arm, eyes falling closed for a moment, though she gave a surprised little noise when he pulled her closer.
Grace gave a dozey little smile, head tilted, "It's nice. I don't like being cold."
"I don't like being cold either," Motark said, and he picked up the speed of the dance just a bit. His hand started to wander up and down her waist, feeling her as she felt him.
"This cape's bothersome for this kind of dancing," Motark said, and he paused for a moment to take it off, letting it fall to the ground. Likewise, he took off his headdress.
Grace shivered at the touches, cheeks going flush and she chewed on her lower lip. Warm. Why did she feel so warm? The fabric of her sort of dress rubbed against her flesh and her nipples hardened, though she didn't notice. A body covered in goosebumps and she squeezed her eyes shut, swaying slightly.
"I..." She closed her eyes for a moment, going through the movements. She wanted Motarks hands on more of her. She wanted him to rub her legs and her back and not just her side, "I think it's bed time," She whispered gently because she knew if he kept touching her the heat in her belly would grow and she'd do something silly.
"Bed time?" Motark repeated, and his hand rose to her back. His other slid up her arm and stopped at her shoulder.
"So soon?"
"Mhmm," Grace made a little noise, biting her lower lip and looking down at her bedroll. Swallowing, she rubbed at her cheeks and pressed the palms of her hands to her cheeks, bright red. "I... I feel weird," she squeezed her legs together and moved closer, letting her eyes fall closed, another glance at her bedroll.
"Weird?"
Motark gave her a good looking over, and his hands covered hers. She was incredibly blushy.
"Weird how? Can I help you?" Motark said, and he knelt down so he could be more level with her, hands on her side.
"I don't know," She whimpered, lower lip caught between her teeth while she shifted her stance and shook her head. "I'm all... Warm and tingly," her voice was soft and Grace pressed her hands to her thighs and she let her eyes fall closed, shifting her legs. "I... I think..." swallowing she rubbed at her chest, frowning again and stared at Motark, "Maybe..." Another glance at the entrance, "You could go back to the festival and... leave me here." Because her fingers itched and the clothing was itchy and Grace knew it would be awkward if she decided to take care of her tingly problem with Motark here.
Motark looked at Grace, and his hands went to her cheeks.
"Can I help, Grace?"
Grace nuzzled into his hands, eyes closed while she moved her hands to her clothing and plucking at it. "I'm just... So warm," she whimpered, moving her hand to cover one of his. Eventually she did, rational thought was driven from her head and she gave a soft sigh when she took his hand, trailed it down her body and set it between her thighs, shifting to place his fingers against her heat. "Use me," she whispered, eyes hooded before looking up at him.
Motark's eyes went wide, yet, he didn't take his hand away.
"Grace..."
Motark's eyes wandered for a bit, before locking onto hers. The conflict was clear in his eyes, but ultimately, the drink won out.
He leaned forwards to kiss her.
A hesitation, Grace leaned back slightly away from him before she curled her arms around his neck to return the kiss. It was awkward with his teeth but she managed, though she ground herself against his hand, letting out pleased little moans. No doubt she was dripping, more than ready. Either by the drink or the dancing. Grace pulled away again, moving her hands to rest on his chest, giving little mewls and gasps while she rolled her hips to make him touch her.
Indeed, Motark noticed that Grace was more than ready for him, but he didn't want to rush this. Motark pitched one of his fingers upwards so that the next time Grace ground down on his hand, it would enter her. It was kind of awkward for him to kneel like this, but he didn't care.
He had other things to attend to.
"The bed," Motark breathed.
"Let's go there."
The entrance of a finger had her jolt and go still, what an unfamiliar feeling. It was so good though and she felt a flood between her legs before she wriggled down again, thrusting her chest forward before casting a glance to the bed. Right. These things were usually done in a bed.
Grace moved to if eagerly, kneeling on it carefully, giving Motark a display of her wetness before she moved to lay down, still clothes though it didn't really matter. Her own hand moved between her legs and her hand reached for her breast, fingers gliding over her flesh while she worked over her clit and rolled her hips into her hand. "I'm so warm," she whined, and from where the heat was originating, doing this seemed like the only logical situation.
[We've been going pretty ham on this thread for a while. Shall we post in some of our other ones?]
Motark looked at her, and walked over to the bed. He loomed over her, to give her an idea of what she was in for. The beast she was about to bed. He took her by the hips and brought her closer to the edge of the bed. He undid the bows by her side, and just like that, her clothing was off.
Motark removed his kilt. He leaned down to press more passionate kisses to her lips.
"I burn for you, Grace," Motark said, a hand slipping down between her thighs once again as he sought to stoke her fire.
( of course! : D )
Chest heaving from nerves and drink, Grace let her legs fall open and being worried about him being so close to her was te farthest thing from her mind. She felt empty and hot. His hand between her legs had her squirming, her own hands moving to clutch at the bed. "I burn, too," she whined, quickly moving a hand to his chest. Would this even work? He was a huge man and no doubt his equipment would match.
"I've never wanted this before," she mewled, shifting again, giving Motark more room to work his fingers between her legs.
Motark leaned down to continue kissing Grace. At first, he was hesitant. He wasn't sure if proceeding was what he wanted to do, but as Grace continued to encourage him, he lost more and more of his sense.
"Well, there's a first for everything, isn't there?" Motark said, and he kissed her again.
The kisses were still odd but Grace found herself returning them, enjoying the strange sensation, her fingers moving from his chest to her own and she smiled up and him before pushing her fingers through her hair, leaving herself on display. This was supposed to have happened by now, right? Except Grace was heated. Practically on fire and she chewed on her bottom lip before offering him a breathy laugh.
"Of course there's a first for everything, if there wasn't... Nothing would get done." An arch of her back and she wriggled her hips more, feeling empty and needy and so warm, which - oddly - alarmed her the most out of this situation. Grace was never warm.
"Wise words," Motark chuckled, and just like that, he picked her up off the bed as if she was as light as a feather and set himself down on the bed. He was on his back, and Grace was on top of him. Motark's equipment was in fact proportional to his size. The girth wasn't exactly monstrous, but it was long. Very long.
"I want to taste you," Motark said, passing his hands along her legs, up her sides, and over her breasts.
Taste her?
Grace went pale for a few moments, staring at him in a mild sort of horror before he ran his hands up her body, leaving a warm tingling in their wake and she ground herself down on his torso before slipping her fingers between her legs again to quell some of the heat. A moment to dip her fingers into herself she drew her hand away and stared curiously at the sticky wetness left over.
"Okay," She said simply, if he meant what she assumed he meant he was either going to eat her or put his mouth somewhere else. Grace shifted forward, legs spread wide by his chest and she moved her hands to squeeze at her breasts while she closed her eyes and made needy little noises. "Tell me what to do," She finally opened her eyes to look at him, confused and needing something she didn't know how to explain.
Grace shifted forwards, and Motark brought his arms up to pull her up to where he could reach. He laid a hand on her belly and another teased her clit while he leaned in to pass his tongue over her folds. Motark chuckled.
"So warm," Motark said.
A startled gasp and Grace let her head tip back with a long moan, her hair resting on his belly and she wriggled in pleasure. Surprised and a little taken aback by the sensation. "Oh gods," she breathed out, hands moving to clutch at her breasts. Looking down she stared, wide eyed before her eyes rolled back and she sighed heavily. "I'm gonna burn up," She whined, looking down again, flushed, a sheen of sweat on her chest and face.
Motark continued to lick her, and after a moment, he pushed his tongue inside. It wriggled around a bit before he brought it back out.
"How can I help you quench your fire?" Motark asked, kneading her clit with his thumb.
The tongue in her had her let out a little squeal of surprise but it quickly turned into a heated moan and she froze, biting hard on her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. "That," She whined, moving a hand over his to help direct his thumb against her clit, practically dripping she moved her hand down his farther to trace a finger. "Before, you... You put one inside me," She rolled her hips a little, the burning hurt so good.
"Can you do that again?" Sure the tongue was nice but she felt nice and full. Grace cast a look over her shoulder, eyeing his cock hungrily before turning back around, "I want to... I want to take you." It was decided, Grace smoothed her hands down her front again, another heated breath, what was the use of being so warm and needy if she couldn't be bold about it. Who was going to know, anyway? "I don't think that'll fit, though" she'd felt herself down there once or twice and she could barely fit two of her own fingers, let alone the brief moment one of his was in there. "I want to try."
"We can definitely try," Motark said, and at her behest, he slipped one of his thick fingers into her, slowly pumping her back and forth with it. He leaned in to give her clit a good licking down while he fingered her.
"You'd best warm me up," Motark said, and he gave her a suggestive look.
Grace moved one of her hands to her mouth to muffle the moan. Just his finger alone felt huge and she wriggled her hips a little before trying to look down but eventually giving up and giving him an odd look. Warm him up? A brief glance at his member, which had her gut clench and no doubt she'd tighten around Motarks finger. A lick of her lips and she looked at him through hooded eyelashes. She pressed her mouth to it, her hands gliding up and down the shaft. "You mean like this?" she breathed, doing her best to 'warm him up', because she was positively cooking
Motark took in some air at the contact. Motark had bedded his share of women, but for some reason, when Grace attended to him like that, it was like an entirely new experience. As a result, he rewarded grace by moving his finger a bit more, and giving her clit another broad swipe of his tongue.
"Turn over onto your belly. It'll be easier for you."
Eagerly she rolled onto her belly, knees on his shoulders, grinding back into his hand. Slowly she moved her hands along his cock, marvelling at the size before she brought the tip o her mouth to take as much as she could. Grace was burning. Everything was so warm and she rolled her hips for more contact. Pulling away, she looked over her shoulder, a light sheen of sweat on her body. Hyper sensitive. "Motark," she mewled giving another eager roll of her hips, "I need it." She moved back his cock, sucking and licking what she could. Trying to drive him as crazy as she was going.
At some point, Motark stopped fingering her and just licked her. He was massive compared to her, so he could cover much more area with his tongue than any human could hope to do. He pressed down on her clit, dragged the length of his tongue over her slit, and even pushed the tip in.
"Then take it, Grace," Motark said.
Grace gave a little pant, cheeks flushed, a head of sweat at her temple. He told her to take it. A long look at his cock and she took it into her mouth again, eyes closed while she moved her hands and worked at him. Tensing and giving a little whimper with each swipe of his tongue, grinding against his face a little. Pulling away finally she rose up onto her knees, shuffling down before she turned back around, placing his cock between her legs but grinding against it with abandon. After a few moments of that she aligned them, hands clutching her breasts. "It's too big," she whined, easing down gently before going back up, "it won't all fit."
"Just take it slow," Motark murmured, raising a hand to put it against her side. Gods, she really did look like a doll, compared to the size of him.
"I can help you, if you want."
Grace wasn't sure if she liked being so warm. A whine and she smoothed her hands over his at her sides, arching her back at all the delightful tingles his touch sent through her system. Like little fireworks that shot off in her abdomen. A wriggle of her hips and she pressed down again before shaking her head and holding his wrists, "help me?" A tilt of her head forward, her hair a long curtain of blonde where it coiled at her hip. "Please?"
Motark nodded.
His hands tightened at her sides a bit, and he stopped using his strength to hold her up. Instead, he let his massive arms weigh her down onto his cock, so he could at least get the tip in.
The tip pushed in and Grace gave a little squeak, trying to get away but take in more. Biting her lip she rolled her hips again, pushing more in and she let her head tip back. Finally leaning forward again, hands still on his arms she shook her head, "It hurts." She whined, looking frustrated and even though it stung she pushed down more, giving a whine when a few inches slid in. The arousal helped and she jerked up after the unintentional movement with a pained squeak. Looking at Motark she bit her lip and shook her head, "You do it. I can't." Grace referenced to the entry, the tip was in and she wasn't brave enough to let herself down upon him.
Motark kept whatever pleasurable contact he could going so it would be easier on Grace, thumb teasing her clit even as a few inches of him slid into her. When she told him he'd have to do it the rest of the way, he rolled over without hesitation.
It... Wasn't the first time he had to do this. Rolled over like this, he towered over her, even when he was on his knees. He leaned down over her, arcing his back so he could kiss her, and then straightening up so he could push into her. He kept a hand down between them to stimulate Grace, even as his massive cock started to slowly disappear into her.
Grace let herself be moved, legs spread wide. When he finally began to push inside she tipped her head back and let out a squeaky moan. Short of breath, her hand moved down to his and she squeezed her eyes shut at the sensations. It hurt. It felt ood. Grace whimpered and rolled her hips, mouth open and breath short. "Motark," she whined, fingers squeezing his arms. "More," she whined, sweaty and rolling her hips.
And he gave her more. He kept pushing into her until his cock could go no farther, until he bumped the entrance to her womb. Even then, there was a four-inch section of him that was still outside of her. However, the massive cock inside of Grace throbbed against her tight walls, and Motark grunted as he started to move. He drew his hips back, and gave Grace a thrust, and then started to slowly repeat the motion.
Grave gave a squeak, rolling her hips and squeezing his arms and there was pain but she reveled in it. His name was a pant on her lips and she arched her back and stretched her arms above her head. No doubt the strangeness of how the fire was behaving was an idea of what was going on in the chieftains tent. Her fingers dug into him and she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him, rolling her hips and gasping for more. Always more. "S'not enough," She whined, fingers clawing at him, "Motark, why isn't it enough?" A little worried now, she curled her legs around what she could of him and looked up pleadingly, sweat beaded on her body, flushed and panting.
"Do not worry, Grace," Motark said. gently building speed, as he wanted her to get as much time as possible to get used to his length.
"I think you downed your drink too quickly," he offered, and he gave her a grin. Because frankly, it had been a little funny to see how such a small girl like herself could guzzle down an entire mug of spring brew.
He gave her a kiss.
"It will subside."
The act of being too warm was foreign and Grace could only roll her hips to Motarks thrusts with needy noises and soft cries. Motark wasnt a conventionally handsome man, but when he grinned at her while deep within her body she felt her heart pick up for a different reason. "You're huge," she finally moaned out, having taken a peek between them to see herself spread wide. No doubt without the help of the lusty drink she'd have never been able to take him. Mindless with something she bit her lip and tried to move, "is it supposed to be like this?" She squeaked out, long chunks of hair clinging to her body.
"Like what?" Motark repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh."
He grunted as they started to move more and more. Grace was so incredibly tight, he could barely throb inside of her. It felt like he was being absorbed.
"A little--hah, a little less so. You're much smaller than a normal orc, and you were served a tankard fit for one."
The movements sent tindles through her and she let her head back and gave a lusty moan. It was terrible and wonderful. "Can you... treat me like an orc?" She coaxed, moving her hands over her breasts and shifting her hips. The flames in the room grew and died down with her passion, visual queues that most men didnt get. "Can you so to me what you really want to do?"
There was a momentary pause as her request processed in Motark's head. He didn't want to hurt her, but if that was what would satisfy her...
Motark put a bit more of a snarl on his face, and one of his hands gripped her breast. He leaned over a bit more, causing her legs to spread wider and clamped the other hand at her waist. Huffing air from his nose, he started pulling her into his movements, using her like she was a doll as he started fucking her at a more "orc friendly" pace.
Grace went tense and stared up at his face, tembling slightly at how frightening looking he was. Gently her hands moved to his arms and she let out littke squeaks and pants, fingers clawing into the muscles. "Mmm," his name came out as noise and she squeezed his biceps and shook her head wildly, trying to catch her breath but each thrust knocked it out of her.
"You... We can do this how you want," she whimpered at him, feeling more heat pool in her belly, "You look scary with that face," ans her hand moved to gently cup his cheek while she maoned and whimpered beneath him.
Motark's face softened a bit when Grace's hand made contact with his cheek, and he sighed.
"You wanted me to treat you like an orc," Motark said, and he put a hand on her own cheek, leaning in to kiss her.
"But now you don't?"
Grace gave a whimper, her breath hitching. A roll of her hips, "i thought maybe you wouldnt want to treat me like one," a roll of her hips and pleasure bloomed in her belly, thighs trembling. "Motark," she threw her head back and arched her back.
"I want to be with you, Grace, but... I want to be myself," Motark said, still rolling his hips against hers. Every thrust had him pushing against her very limits, and he let out shuddering breaths, an indication of the immense pleasure he felt.
"You're so good..."
Each movement had her gasping and moaning, head tilted back. There was pain but it hurt so good and Grace choked back a sob when all her muscles tensed up around him. "I'm not even doing anything," she whined, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.
Grace wasnt sure if it was pleasure or pain, or the mix, but it was all overwhelming and she gave another choking sob. The fire in her demanded more and the fires around her agreed. "That drink," she panted, "can we have it everyday?" A roll of her hips, the burning in her thighs hurting, "im so hot."
"Every day, if you want it," Motark said, and he started to move faster.
"Share your fire with me, Grace. I want to burn up in your heat."
Did she want ir?
Grace panted heavily, sweat beading on her forehead while she tried to take more than she could fit. Any pain melted into a sweet pleasure and she writhed beneath him. "I dont know how to share," she whimpered out, a choking cry "I..." she went tense, throwing her head back, eyes squeezed shut, heels digging into his legs and with a wail and a brightening of the flames she came, a flood of wetness around his cock and she rocked her hips against him harder, seeking more of that sensation. Flushed and panting.
"Motark," she moaned, eyes shut, "i need," she didnt really know what she needed but it felt like the right thing to say.
As Grace got more and more agitated and lusty, Motark got just a bit more aggressive. When she came around him, he started thrusting harder. He turned her over onto her belly, so that if she wanted to buck backwards, it would be easier for her to do so.
"What do you need, Grace?"
"I need," she did exactly as he moved her for, bucking back into him, her back pressing to his chest. Her hair a gold curtain around her arms, clinging to her sweaty flesh. Another buck back into him and another cry, "I need ," her voice got higher and she took one of his hands and guided it between her legs, no more of him would fit but she could keep his hands on her.
"You," a pant, a tremble, another buckback to greedily take more. "God, please." A sob, "its too hot." Panic flicked into her voice.
Grace would find Motark's chest to be almost as hard as stone. His fingers smothered her clit as his length repeatedly pounded into the deepest recesses of her body.
His other hand gripped her breast, mouth kissing the back of her neck.
Grace whined and moaned and clung.
With one last lusty cry she arched her back, pressed her face into the bed and came hard, clamping down around him. His name was a soft cry and Grace put her hand over his at her breast and moved it to press his palm over her heart to feel it pounding before she gave one last grind into him before she gave a tremble and whimpered before her arms collapsed under her.
Grace fell forwards, but Motark wasn't done. Her incredible tightness had greatly accelerated his climax, but he just had more gas than her.
He started pushing into her from behind, rocking her forwards with every pound of his hips.
Another strangled cry and she came again, Grace's eyes practically rolled into her head and she fisted whatever was in her hand. The fires grew and flickered with her orgasms and Grace moved a hand down between her legs, still twitching, to feel him, to feel how wide he stretched her. Her wetness dripped from her fingers and she felt her heat renewed. Did she like this?
Grace tipped her head to the side, panting and writhing still. "I wish I could take all of you," She moaned out, having felt those few inches she couldn't fit, didn't quite feel complete but she pressed a hand to her belly and realized for the first time that with his thrusts she could feel him inside. It should have hurt, no doubt she'd feel it tomorrow, but right now every sensation was just wonderful.
"You're so big," She moaned out referring to... All of him. Height. Shoulder width. Everything. Grace pressed her face to one of his arms, eyes closing from near exhaustion, though she was still vocal about their coupling.
"Well, I'd just have to push a tad deeper, won't I?" Motark said, and he started to go into her a bit harder and faster. Pushing against her cervix like that, he managed to vanish two more inches. She was full to the absolute brim, and there was indeed a small bulge n her abdomen that vaguely reflected his shape.
"I'm going to come, Grace!"
Grace could only yelp and writhe.
Heated breath rushed out of her with every thrust inward and she rocked beneath him, tense. Tight. Wound up. "Motark," She whined, burning inside. Everything was tense. Every muscle ached. One last arch backwards and she came again with a wet gush and a lusty cry before she clenched her teeth and threw back her head, breathing heavily through her teeth.
That last orgasm managed to coax out Motark's own climax, and to say he filled her to the brim would be a grave understatement. Pressed up to her as she was, Motark's warmth shot right into her womb, filled her the rest of the way, and even kept coming out of her as Motark was rocked by the throes of his climax.
His orgasm lasted for around twenty seconds, and when it was over, he looked down at Grace, chest heaving slightly as he met her eyes and gazed into them.
The feel of his warmth shooting into her set off a series of smaller but no less powerful orgasms and Grace was left a moaning twitching mess under Motark. Hands balled into tight fists, teeth clenched, sweat dripping, her wetness combined with his semen was dripping from her.
Finally they stopped moving and she turned to look at him, flushed and sweaty. The fires in the room slowly went back to their normal height and Grace pressed a hand to her belly before moaning slightly and pressing her face down on her arm to pant. "I can't move," She whined, looking over her shoulder at him, sleepy, eyes falling closed now that the passion was being allowed to cool.
Motark panted a bit, nodding in agreement.
He wasn't as exhausted, but sex like that had certainly taken away his energy away. He pulled out of her, shuddering one last time before flopping on the bed with her. He threw the covers over them and held her from behind. Pulling her to him. Funnily enough, despite their drastic size differences, she fit right into the corves of his body. There was so much of him around her, and the way he held her by the belly, nestled in with his cock between her legs, was nothing less than affectionate.
Grace let him move her, limp as she was and she snuggled against the orc.
Still trembling and panting, it wasn't immediate that she fell asleep, but once her breathing calmed she relaxed against him. Grace fell into a sleep, twitching still from their coupling. Eventually she returned to her normal state of being cold, but firy hot to the touch and goosebumps rose on her flesh. She shivered and curled in closer to Motark and dreamed. Or rather, thought she dreamed.
When Grace pressed back in towards him, their sexes pressed together, and Motark held her closer. He was fully aware of the feeling that she was oozing from her hole. He kissed the top of her head.
Grace slept peacefully. For the most part. Halfway through the night, after the fires died down, her own fires picked back up. Grace's eyes snapped open and she gave a soft squeak, before squeezing her eyes shut. But the heat bloomed in her belly and she wriggled away from Motark to not wake him and pushed her hand between her legs to work the heat out of herself.
A low moan when her hand was covered in left over semen but she didnt care. His name was gasped softly when she started to peak and she held her breath and turned her head to look at him, hand working furiously, cheeks flushed. Lips bitten red. Grace was too confused to feel shame at the moment, hunched over and touching herself with a renewed strange lust.
Staring intently at Motark's form - it was too dark to tell if his eyes were open or not , she shameless pleasured herself beside him.
Motark didn't need keen ears to hear what was going on. It was her whispering his name that woke him up, and for a few moments, he listened, feeling her move against the bed and make small, furtive little sounds as she touched herself.
Eventually, though, he couldn't just sit and listen for any longer.
"If you want to go again, Grace, you only need to ask," Motark said, and he leaned forwards to give her a kiss.
"I... I want you again, too."
His voice startled her and Grace froze, choking on her breath. Did she want it again? The kiss soothed some of the heat and she pulled her hand away from herself and pressed into the kiss. Her tongue flicking out to catch his lips.
Though Grace moved to her hands and knees, giving a needy noise. A littke whine. "The heat won't go away," she whined, a near sob, " Motark im scared," Grace pulled her hair oved her shoulder, giving him a worried look, but still eager and waiting. On display for him, ready to take.
"Dont leave me empty," she cried, rocking her hips back and forth.
"I won't, Grace," Motark said. He rose up to his knees behind her, hands passing gently over her flesh. He leaned over, dragging his length across her folds. Leftover seed started to coat him, and he sighed.
"Don't be scared, Grace. I'm here."
Heat bloomed again in her gut and she ground back against him before she gave a wriggle and turnes around. Urging Motark onto his back, she rubbed his chest, seating herself on his abdomen, legs spread wide.
Arching her back, she caught his cock and pressed back against it. Grace sat back against him, forcing herself down until she couldn't take anymore. Her hand pressed against her abdomen and she slowly began to rock against him, fingers digging into her chest.
"Why cant i take it all?" She whined.
Motark's hands went to Grace's sides and his hips bucked up to meet Grace's slow rocking. His hands remained at her sides for a few moments longer before he gripped her breasts.
Motark let out a grunt, and spoke.
"Our sizes are so vastly different," Motark said.
"But I do not care if you cannot fit every inch of me, Grace. Your womanhood feels like heaven, I could be inside you forever."
Grace rode him gently at first, bouncing atop of him before she leaned back. Arched back, she gave a heated cry and smoothed a hand over her abdomen before placing both hands behind her on his thighs.
The movements werent as quick paced but Grace's moans rose with her passion. Angry frustrates noises as she worked herself into a frendzy. It was so close, she could feel it. His name was a grunt and she arched her back again, rolling her hips.
The situation wasnt in her favor. She was trapped her. Probably forever and it seemed that, in this, she had some control. Grace grew intoxicated by the pleasure and the false power, rocking herself harder. "Never been with a human before?" She asked, bouncing atop of him, flushed and working up a sweat, hair clinging to her body.
"You could be inside forever," she breathed, sitting up again and bending forward, " during your meetings," Grace hissed, "just have me, full of you, on your lap." A roll of her hips, "think they'd enjoy the show? Seeing me positively stuffed full of their leader?"
"It'd certainly be an impressive display," Motark growled back, and as Grace's rocking got harder, so did his bucking. Every time she rocked downwards, they'd slap together with quite the lewd noise, and even if it'd never been inside of her, those two inches were still as wet as the length vanishing in and out of her.
He reached up and grabbed her by the back of the neck, bringing her down so he could kiss her quite fiercely. Now that she was the one pushing, he felt more confident in being rougher with her.
"Gods, every time I slam against your womb, I just want to keep going. I want to touch the very deepest parts of you, Grace," Motark said.
Grace was alarmed at how much the idea of being full of him, on display for the cruel members of his clan, made her twitch. Imagining people watching him stuff into her, barely able to fit but doing it anyway. A shiver ran through her and Grace returned the fierce kiss, hands moving to dig into the flesh on his chest while she rode him for all she was worth.
No doubt this would hurt later but right now, Grace didn't care.
"Do it," She hissed, "Everything. I'm yours. Yours to hold. Yours to use." Grace paused, gasped and gave a tremble , "Make me into everything you want me to be." Grace whispered, licking her lips, eyes drifting closed, "Touch the deepest parts. Take me!" Her back bowed back and she let out a long low moan when she came, thighs going tense and fingers digging into his flesh.
It didn't take him long to make good on his promise. He grabbed her by the hips, and started to pull her down. The tension would rise and rise as he pressed against the entrance to her womb, and after almost half of a minute of that blissful tension rising, it suddenly broke.
He was inside her to the very last millimeter now. Motark paused, overwhelmed by the feeling.
Grace sucked in a breath and finally, when she had him hilted she threw back her head and wailed. It hurt, it hurt so bad but the lingering brew in her system flashed it into pleasure and she rocked against him frantically, fingers digging in. Motark would be overwhelmed by her pleasure, one orgasm rolled into the next and she started to shake her head frantically, back arched, breathing deeply and trembling.
A glance down at her abdomen and she let out a low moan and her head rolled back. "I... I..." A few more frantic movements, "Please, I can't..." the wetness was pooling below her at his groin and her arms were growing weak and her eyes were closing, "Motark, I can't."
Motark rolled them over, and he straightened up on his knees. He started to thrust and fuck her like never before, letting out small grunts and moans of his own as he finally found out what meant for all of him to be inside of her.
"Grace!"
Every thrust inside made her squeal and she stretched her arms high above her head, back arched. Grace clenched her teeth, fingers digging into the bed and after a few thrusts she tensed up completely and came hard with a long drawn out wail. Cried out until she could only croak and she gave a few last rolls of her hips before she went lax, legs falling open around Motark's legs and eyes falling closed. The feelings were too much for her and she laid below him, having fainted.
Motark's orgasm arrived for him then, and it was only when he stopped filling her insides with renewed warmth that he notice she'd fainted. At first, a flash of fear went through him, but once he ascertained she was still breathing, he relaxed. He laid next to her in bed, pulling out of her and taking her up into his arms as he threw the covers over them and fell asleep.
Grace slept deeply and when she woke up she had the worst cramps of her life, her mouth felt dry, her head hurt and she let out a twitching gasping moan when she felt stuff between her legs. A wriggle of her hips and she tried to sit up, only to gasp and lay back down. What was wrong? What did she...?
A flood of shame washed through her and her gut clenched.
They'd had sex.
They'd... A hand moved to her abdomen and she gave a soft gasp before she threw back the blankets and looked down at herself, completely naked, thighs sticky. Another cramp waved through her and she gave a little whimper. No more of that. Never. Grace couldn't think of how wonderful it felt to be surrounded by him. Not when everything ached so bad.
Even her thighs were feeling crampy.
Slowly and with great effort she crawled from his bed, hunched over and taking little steps before she moved to a mat she'd used to sleep on before she snuck into the warmth of his bed. Hair a mess, her whole body a mess. Carefully she moved and curled up on the ground, one hand covering her lower stomach and the other one covering her eyes while she breathed carefully through the pain.
Why did she think that was a good idea? Lust was a powerful drug, clearly.
Motark stirred after a few minutes without Grace in his arms, and quietly, he lifted his head up a tad bit, noticing her absence.
"Grace?" he muttered softly, and he moved to the edge of the bed, peering over to her on the mat. Unlike Grace, he wasn't as intoxicated. He remembered.
"Grace," he repeated.
"Are you alright?"
Grace squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a moan. Before it had been easy to not cry. "I want to go home," were the first wet words out of her mouth, a shudder and the tears began to fall, wetting her temples.
"Everything hurts. It was so good last night but everything hurts now and i dont care if i'd be in a mage camp." A few shaky beeaths, "i want to go home."
Motark looked at her in silence for a few moments before she'd be able to hear the bed creakign as he stood up. He knelt by her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"If I could send you home, I would," Motark said. "But these camps you told me about... I don't want you going there."
He leaned in and left a kiss on her head.
"Let me get you something for the pain," Motark said before standing back up.
"Do you drink tea?"
Grace gave a weary nod and curled up tighter.
"I... Yes." She was hesitant, a wrinkle of her nose, "Will it make me feel like the drink last night did?"
"No," Motark said.
"It will dull the pain. You will feel better."
And with that, he stepped over to the other part of the chamber and set some water to boil.
"Grace, about last night..."
Motark started, but he trailed off, words failing him.
Swallowing carefully she sat up, still naked as a jay bird and winced, looking at him carefully.
"I liked it," She answered truthfully, licking her lips and shifting slightly, "I really liked it." Grace cleared her throat, "It... Just... Everything hurts now."
Motark let out a breath.
"I... I was afraid you'd regret it. That you'd think worse of me afterwards," Motark said.
He offered her a smile.
"I had good time as well. I didn't know humans could be so... vocal."
Grace shook her head, "N...No." Gently she bit her lip and she gave him a small pained smile back, eyeing him up and down before she licked her lips and turned away, blushing.
"I... What do you mean vocal?" A look of worry on her face and she pouted up at him.
"You..."
Motark couldn't help but to smile.
"You might've told me that you wanted me to couple with you during one of the council meetings."
Grace's eyes popped out of her head and she just stared at him and then went several shades of red and for the first time she felt very naked. Her hands moved to cover her breasts and she swallowed again, because, though awful and slightly detestable she felt an unfamiliar flicker of heat in her gut. No. Bad Grace.
Swallowing she looked at him, "I... Do... Are we going to?"
"No," Motark said.
"Unless you still want to."
Grace paled.
Not at the idea, but that it still seemed ... Like something she wanted to do. Was she a bad girl now? Grace looked far away for a moment, smoothing a hand over her belly, was she no better than a brothel worker? Probably. At least if she ever got free, she knew what she'd be able to do to live. Swallowing carefully she pushed those thoughts away.
Maybe... A lick of her lips and she looked up at him, nipples having tightened at the very idea and she rose up onto her knees, winced and sat back down. When would the water boil?
"I... Might," Grace swallowed, shifting her weight, "Why would you do that though? Isn't that... Bad? Wouldn't that be bad?"
"Not... precisely," Motark said. It looked like he was going to continue, but the water was now steaming gently, and he turned to attend it, leaving Grace with a rear view of his magnificent body.
"My predecessors have done more unusual things during council."
Grace frowned, looking supremely confused.
"More unusual? Than... than... having sex with their human pet?"
"That's merely me using my slave. As terrible as it sounds, it is rather mild. Many of the chiefs before me have mandated strange practices and unusual protocols for the council. There are too many to specify," Motark said.
"The third chief before me, Duergar Bloodspear, stood naked at the head of the table. He wanted the council members to fear him, so he tried to intimidate them with his... you know."
He turned back to her, and walked over so that he stood over her.
"As long as you're quiet, I doubt it'll even bother them."
Grace just stared at him.
"Well, we both know i cant be quiet." A small hesitant smile, " so we know thats out."
Motark returned her smile with a smirk.
"I suppose so," he said.
"We'll keep it behind closed doors, then."
Phew.
Grace sucked in a breath and licked her lips, "hows the tea coming along?" Then she paused.
"Are we going to do that again?"
"I..."
Motark fell quiet.
"I wouldn't be opposed to it. I'd be lying if last night didn't leave me with a new kind of desire" Motark said, and he turned his head back towards the pot.
"Ingredients are in the water. It shouldn't take too long for it to finish."
Grace licked her lips and looked up at him.
"New kind of desire?" Her hand smoothed over her body, hands resting on her thighs before she gave him a long look. "For... me? Or just... little humans?"
"For you," Motark answered immediately.
"You're beautiful, and kind..."
Grace smirked and tiltes her head.
"You want me because im beautiful and kind? Not because im so tiny and you barely fit?"
Silence from Motark.
"that too."
A nod, Grace leaned in and cupped her breasts staring at him.
"I know you want to be sweet about it, but i know. Im not stupis. Thats why they gavw me to you, isnt it? To fuck ?"
Motark nodded.
"You were gifted to me as a toy."
He looked down at her as she played with her breasts.
"But I didn't want to force myself upon you."
Grace moved her hands away quickly and she crawled towards Motark looking up at him. "You didnt, i wanted it." Grace bit her lip and she looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry. I dont really know what to do with myself now."
"Don't be sorry," Motark said, and he glanced back to the pot over the fire before looking back at her.
"What do you want to do?"
Grace shrugged.
"I dont know. Im just a toy. You ... either use me or... make me do something." Grace shivered, the cold setting in again before she licked her lips and rubbed her legs, "I dont know how to be a toy. What do other orcs do?"
"Other orcs use their toys," Motark said.
"But... do you want to be used, Grace? Would you be alright with being my toy?"
Grace frowned slightly before she shrugged, "what else am i good for?" She asked honestly, head ducking down.
Motark wanted to tell her otherwise, but she had a point. There wasn't much a small human girl like herself could do in a place like this.
"There is a lot that can be done with fire magic such as yours," Motark said, and he knelt down with her.
"You can help the smiths. Have you any experience with a forge?"
Grace curled her arms around his neck and snuggled in eyes closed.
"I used to make jewelry," she said quietly, trying to climb onto Motark to wamrth. "I could work? They wouldnt hurt me?'
"I'll make sure that they treat you well," Motark said, putting his arms around her. He let her snuggle to her heart's content.
"Would you like to continue making jewelry?"
Tears pricked at her eyes and she snuggled in close. "Could i? Would you like it?"
"I think everybody in the tribe would appreciate having a jeweler," Motark said, hands on her sides as he held her to him.
"Our smiths and artisans are good, but we've never had someone dedicated to that.
Grace took his hands and smoothed up his arms, tilting her chest forward to put her breasta on display - or as on display as she could manage.
"Do you wear jewelry? What would i make?"
"I would not mind having a few pieces of it," Motark said, glancing down to her chest. There was a small moment of trepidation there before he leaned in and kissed her..
"What you make will be up to you. I don't quite know for what you will be making it for yet. I will need to think on how I can implement you."
Grace curled her arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss and even deepening it. Before she pulled away and curled up, "i'd like to do something besides... Be here all the time." A moment to frown, "i mean, if you were any other orc I'd... be nothing but warming your bed" she looked to it and the water.
"You wouldnt make me tea because i hurt."
"I doubt any other orc would even take the time to talk to you," Motark said, and he gently lifted Grace up, cradling her to his chest as he walked over to the fire. He sat down, setting her down on his lap as he took the pot by the handle and poured the tea out into some clay mugs.
"Careful, it's hot."
Grace sighed and oet hersekf be moved.
It was true. From what she'd seen of his kin they mostly ignored her, a few glares from the ladyorcs for occupying their leader's time but other than that... nothing.
She accepted the drink gratefully, blowing on the cup carefully.
"Why dont you have children?" She asked in a soft voice.
"The same reason I don't have a wife," Motark said. He sipped gently on his tea.
"I want to reform the tribe before I bring a child into it."
She gave Motark a look, "even i know not-wives can get pregnant." Grace cuddled back into him, taking a sip of the hot tea and sighing when it numbed the pain. Like almost all things, it was made for orcs so it was more potent for her little human self.
"Have you done anything strange in front of your council?" She finally asked, turning around in his arms to straddle his hipa.
"Erm, no," came Motark's reply.
"I've done a couple of embarassing things, but not strange things."
She turned about in his lap, straddling him as they were seated, and he took another sip.
"Is the tea good?"
The tea was sufficiantly cool and she took another drink.
"Yes," sbe pressed her cheek to his chest, peppering kisses along his collarbone befofe she looked up. "It numbs the pain nicely. Now all i need is another bath and a nap and i'll be right as rain." Still she snuggled into Motark and drew idle patterns on his lower stomach.
"So, if im quiet, i can have my way eith you in front of the council?" She got a dangerous little gleam in her eye and she rolled her hips on his lap. If she was going to be here forever, might as well make herself known. For good or for bad.
"You can."
If Grace was trying to get Motark hard, then she was definitely on the right path. He let out a small sigh as Grace fettered kisses on him and rolled her hips in his lap. His hand went to her hip, stroking her there and on her thigh as she played games of her own.
"What cant i get away with?"
She leaned back to look at him, glancing down at the strange feeling between her legs to realize it was him. Grace blushed scarlet and cleared her throat, looking up at him again. "Sorry, you're like a teenage boy."
"Don't be sorry, I quite liked it," Motark said.
"You can't speak up unless spoken to, disrespect any orcs, or disrespect your master," Motark explained, and he laid a kiss on the top of her head.
Grace drank down more tea and sighed when the pain ebbed away, turning into a dull throb and then edging away completely.
It also made her very drowsy.
"Can i talk to you without being spoken to?" Her voice was soft and she pressed little kisses to his chest and neck. Grace enjoyed the contact, ground down against him for more of it. He was warm and the cold was setting in again.
"Of course, as long as it's not around anybody," Motark said, and his free arm wrapped around Grace, hand planted firmly on her ass as she gave him kisses and ground on him.
"Feeling better?"
Grace froze.
Did she?
There was a little shrug and she looked up at Motark, frowning ever so slightly before she looked away, pressing her cheek to his chest and sighed.
"I don't know. I don't hurt anymore," A sigh, "Am I ever going to get to go home? What if I want a husband. or kids! Or... Or... To not be a slave?"
"Grace, it's... It's difficult," Motark said, and he gave her a sympathetic look.
"If it was safe to travel through, I would've let you go, but the land all over these parts is home to orc tribes. If I didn't send you with an escort, you would doubtlessly be captured again. The problem is, I do not trust my soldiers to leave you untouched," he said. He tightened his arms around her a bit.
"If I ever get the chance to escort you myself, I will."
It was a small comfort but Grace gave a little nod and snuggled in against Motark, pressing a brief kiss to his chest and curled her legs around his waist and stretched her arms. "Alright. Someday," she whispered, "until then... i'm all yours?" Wasnt she? "I liked lastnight, except for the pain." Grace pursed her lips, "is that drink from last night only available at celebrations?"
Motark went a bit thoughtful at that.
"Well, that's when we brew it, but I don't see why I can't have some more made," Motark said, and he finished his tea with another sip. He put a hand on one of her breasts, the other one resting on her hip, and he kissed her.
"I'll make sure you get it in a more appropriately sized cup this time."
Grace smiled before she placed her hand on top of Motark's and closed her eyes, turning her face away to hide her blush. "I dont need any of it..." she leaned back to look at him, "you're not going to... lend me out, are you?"
"No," came the immediate response.
"I won't make you do anything you don't want to, and that includes being with people you don't want to be with," Motark said.
He cocked a smile at that.
"In a way, you are all mine."
Grace closed her eyes and snuggled in close, sighing softly before looking at him and tracinf patterns on his chest.
"Do yoh have to do anything today?" Then she paused, "are a lot of orc babies going to be born this year?" She jerked her thumb back towards the entrace of his tent motioning towards the previous nights festivities.
[So, I have a random concern: Rhi has a half-orc character, which technically means that orcs and peoplez can have babbehs. Are... are Motark and Grace gonna have a babbeh? Should they have a babbeh? It'd be an interesting twist, what with Motark's child being destined to become next chief and all that]
Motark looked off towards the indicated direction, and he nodded. He smoothed a hand over her head, still fascinated by the golden sheen of her hair, and the beauty of her eyes.
"Yes, a lot of births come after the spring festivals," Motark said.
"I'm unoccupied for the day. Many of the tribespeople are recovering from he festivities. Today, at least, will be peaceful."
Grace gave a little hum of pleasure and was mostly entertained that the brew had served its purpose. She smoothed a hand over her belly, remembering.. a hot blush stained her cheeks and she ducked her head down.
"I... i wasnt myself last night," she finally stated, ducking her head down, "i.. i cant believe i acted in such a manner. It was..." she looked down at heraelf, Motarks hand.on her breast, "i suppose it doesnt matter if i'm with you. This confuses me so much. What
.. What am i supposed to do now that we... now that..." she looked to the bed and then him.
Motark spared a glance towards the bed.
"We carry on normally, except... I suppose we're also having sex now," Motark said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it either.
"Don't apologize for how you acted, I was a bit heady of drink myself."
Grace turned a deep scarlet, looking at him for a moment before she gathered her tangled hair over her shoulder and finger combed it over one of her breasts.
"Are we... can we..." she glanced down between them, "do you even want to? With me?"
Motark put a hand on the side of Grace's neck, thumb stroking her cheek.
"I do," Motark said. His other hand lowered to her ass.
"Do you?"
Grace sucked in her breath and licked her lips.
"Am I allowed to want that?" Her voice trembled and she smoothed her hands down her front, "I acted shamefully yesterday. I dont know..."
"You are," Motark said.
"And feeling a little lust is far from shameful. By that logic, the whole tribe acted shamefully."
Grace shivered at the cold and wriggled closer to Motark.
"Its... okay for you. You're all orcs. Im just... a tiny human." Grace tried to smile but instead felt her eyes close. "I liked it though. With you."
Motark accepted her closer, although she was already quite close. Motark held her to him, their bare chests touching.
"Do..."
Motark breathed through his nose.
"Do you want to go again?"
Grace chuckled and looked up at him, a hesitant lick of her lips. " I dont know," a shiver had goosebumps popping up on her flesh and she closed her eyes a moment.
"Do you?" Her question was spoken softly, "i dont think i can do... all of it again." She glanced at his groin, "it kinda hurt."
"Well, we don't have to all the way," Motark said, and he started to gently knead her buttock, leaning in to deposit a kiss on the top of her head.
"I... I do. I want you, Grace."
Grace swallowed carefully and curled her arms around his neck. "I'm yours, remember?" Did she want him? Grace had enjoyed what they did, and enjoyed what the brew had turned into pleasure. Still, when she imagined getting away from the camps, she didnt imagine being deposited into the arms of a gentle green giant.
Grace pressed a kiss to his lips before taking in a breath, like she was contemplating just what she wanted. "Can we try it again?" A little smile, "and then nap? I'm a little sleepy."
Motark nodded at that, kissing her even as he leaned forwards to deposit her on her back, hands running up her sides. He moved up to straddle her stomach (making sure he supported himself on his knees so he didn't crush her) and laid his member between her breasts.
He reached behind him, teasing her folds with his fingers.
"Let's warm up, then."
Grace was already quite warm, he'd find her soaked and she wiggled her hips against his finger, eyes closed before she moved her hands to his cock between her breasts. She asked for this. This was what she wanted... Right? Grace frowned for a moment before she leaned her head forward to lap at the tip of his cock before cupping her breasts and pushing them together. She did most of what she remembered from the night before to pleasure him while rolling her hips, silently begging for more.
Motark gave her a harder fingering when her hips rolled against his hand, sighing. He pushed his cock forwards so Grace could get more of it into her mouth
"Grace..."
Grace gave a little whimper, eyes squeezed shut. It was easier to process all of this with her eyes shut. Though they snapped open and she pulled away from him, going still.
"Did I do something wrong?" She whispered, unmoving, quickly shutting her eyes again.
Motark looked at Grace.
"No, I... You're doing great," Motark said.
A little hesitant nod and she resumed her activities, trying for any sort of reaction from him. Unfortunately for him though, their size difference was great and Grace couldnt do much in the way of fitting him into her mouth. So she made do with her tongue and hands, an unfamiliar ache between her thighs and she rolled her hips harder, silently begging for anything she could get.
Despite her limitations, Grace was still doing a good job with Motark. His eyes closed, and he let out a shuddering sigh as she resumed. His finger plunged deeper into her, but after enough time, he just couldn't help himself.
"I want you, Grace. So badly."
Grace gave little whimpering moans, rolling her hips and sucking on the head of his cock. Her hand trailed along it gently and she pressed her breasts together before he spoke. Grace's eyes snapped open, knees moving up and more heat bloomed in her belly.
"You do?" She whispered, head tilting back. Blonde hair a golden halo around her head, "I'm already yours," she mewled, tilting her hips up, "take what you want." It was easier to accept that she was doing this with a giant orc of a man if she didnt admit that she wanted it too. Perhaps just as badly, if not more. "Use me," she whined, finding her body tighten at the words, "please."
Motark looked down at her, smiling. He moved backwards, hand gripping her by the side as he oriented his head against her. He ran his length against her folds, leaning down to kiss her.
"My little doll," he said, although it wasn't a completely serious statement.
He started to push in.
Grace wasnt sure what she was expecting. Pain was hugh on the list, so when she felt him push into her she tensed up. All she felt was a delicious stretch and her fingers tightened around his wrists. "Oh ..." Grace's eyes fell closed, cheeks flushed. She pressed her hands to her breasts while she shifted her hips to get comfortable.
With a new enthusiasm Grace pressed into the kiss, shivering at the odd pleasure. "I like this better without that drink," she breathed, back arched, "oh... Motark..." Her hands went up, tangling in her hair, "am i allowed to want this with you?" She gasped, moving her legs to give him room.
"You are," Motark said, moving in with that room she made for him, sliding deep inside her inch by inch. He started to move, then, hands on her side and breast to hold her in place.
"You feel so good, Grace..."
Grace's breath hitched when he pushed in and she kept silent for the most part, experiencing it for real this time. "I can feel you," she whispered, eyes closed, hands moving to her belly to press down at the flesh before she moved her hands to his a little alarmed at how full he made her. Grace shifted her hips again, arching her back to get a little more of him in without him banging against her cervix, having found that sensation a little on the unpleasant side.
Once she felt him unable to go any deeper she gave a little roll of her hips and gasped, eyes flying open to look up at him. To look between them. What a sight she must be, she thought before she gave another little experimental roll of her hips while he moved and gasped. "You say my name a lot," she whispered, face flushed and lips bitten red, back arched and wholly focused on moving so the size difference didn't go against them, "Do you like it?"
Motark held her hands gently, fully aware of how small they were in comparison to his. She started to roll her hips properly, and Motark matched her. She was the smaller one, so he wanted to move in a way that was comfortable for her. For Motark, any kind of movement within her confines felt like lightning, so he genuinely didn't care for angles or pace.
In short, it was Grace's pleasure that was important to him.
"It's a pretty name," Motark said plainly.
"And it suits you so well."
A fluttery little smile and Grace's eyes closed, a frown forming while she worked herself against her giant ... Lover? Grace angled her hips in such a way it sent a zing of pleasure through her and she gasped sharply, fingers digging into his flesh. Then she repeated it, again and again, slowly biting her lip while she worked herself, tightening her legs against him even though closing them wasn't an option.
"Mm..." She started to gasp, back arching, mouth open. She looked up at him, a little confused before she squeezed her eyes shut again.
"I..." A little mewling noise, "I liked when you called me Little Doll," and it wasn't as though she didn't look it, tiny as she was compared to him, the long golden blonde hair, the bright eyes. "It ... Makes me feel different," Another little gasp and she moved her hand down her body to hesitantly feel herself, "Makes me feel like... Like I'm yours..." Another little roll of her hips accented by a halting gasp, "Are we lovers?" She finally asked, a little breathless, almost on edge.
"Lovers?"
Motark was starting to pick up the pace now, slowly approaching the speed at which they made love the previous night. He glanced away from her, as if mulling the question over, before he looked back. He leaned down and kissed her.
"We have sex because we want to have sex, so I suppose we are lovers, little doll."
The pace helped edge her along, rolling her hips, giving gasps and moans. Grace wrapped her fingers around his wrists, eyes losing focus. The kiss caught her off guard but she returned it whole heartedly. "I could do this forever," she moaned, head tipping back while he thrust into her, "you feel so good." And a thrust in hit a spot that had her freeze before she rocked her hips hard, trying to replicate the motion.
"Why did i never do this before you?" She breathed, moving one hand to squeeze her breast.
Motark smirked at Grace's question, straightening up against her so he could help her recreate that perfect angle.
"I suppose you haven't found the right person until now," Motark said, hand caressing her cheek and neck as he vanished into her with every motion.
Each thrust forward had her clench around him and she gave a sharp gasp. Grace rolled her hips in time with his movement, making affirmative noises. "You're perfect," Grace moaned, shifting her hips to move her legs.
The orgasm caught her off guard, the repetitive movement had her coming, teeth clenched and nails digging into his arms. "Motark!" She cried, a soft scream.
You're perfect. Motark actually almost stopped at that, but then she was coming, and the sensation was almost too much for him. He leaned down to kiss her, and then turned her onto her belly, making sure to keep his distance from the fire in case it flared up.
Grace trembled below him, still unused to the sensations. She could see why people sought this out though. "Why...?" She breathed, flushed and looking over her shoulder, moving to raise up. The fires flared up the littlest bit but remained calm.
"Why?" Motark repeated, and he held her by the sides and helping her rise up to her hands and knees. In this position, he was able to reach deeper into her. He was speeding up, member throbbing inside of her.
He was close.
"Why what?"
"Why my belly," Grace moaned out, fingers digging into the bedding, spreading her legs a little and arching her back when he started to speed up. A heated wet mess, Grace balanced on one hand and moved her free hand between her legs to stroke at herself. "Oh," She gasped, "Oh," Another squeak and she rocked her hips back, head thrown to the side, looking at him. "Motark," she groaned, biting her lower lip, "You're perfect," she said again, flushed and giving little squeaks and moans, "I'm gonna..." She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut and rocked against him harder.
[XD they're not on the bed, I think they're just bangin' by the fire. Also, she almost rolled preggers on the dice this time, just thought you'd be interested in knowing.]
Grace's harder rocking combined with Motark's powerful thrusts meant that even if she didn't want him coming up against her cervix, it was happening regardless. However, he only went that deep for a short while, because his orgasm was at hand. Again, he filled her to the very brim and beyond, delivering his load with some closing thrusts that had his seed shooting right into her womb, as before.
"Grace!"
( ahaha im entertained by this game now.)
Grace came again with a heated cry, head thrown back, clenching down on him with a lusty moan. The pain only made the pleasure sweeter and she felt bloated by his come, smoothing her hand over her belly. "Don't leave," she moaned, twitching continuously and coming again with hot little shivers.
"I like this with you," she whispered, moving one of his hands from her side to her breasts. Still, her arms collapsed under her and she panted and shivered.
[XD]
Motark fulfilled Grace's wishes and stayed with her. He didn't pull out, remaining buried in her as he laid on his side and held her to his chest. Her back was facing him, so they were both facing the fire. He put one of his arms around her, encasing her in a protective shell made up of his rock-hard muscle.
"I won't leave," Motark said.
Grace, still exaughsted, dozed off quickly.
Still, she struggled to keep her eyes open, wiggling back into the warmth of Motark. "Youre warm," she breathed, finding the warmth of a body far outweighed the warmth of fire.
Motark smiled a bit at that, and he snuggled her closer. He laid a kiss on the top of her head.
"You're warm too, Grace."
Grave gave a chuckle, which quickly turned into a heated little gasp and she ground down against him. "Of course," Grace breathed softly, " i'm made of fire."
"I like it," Motark said.
"My fiery little doll."
Yet even as those tender words left him, he was worried. He was the great Motark Bloodspear, 537th of his line, and the single most powerful orc chief in the region.
And here he was, curled up with a small, blonde human girl, the very picture or kindness, feeling the best he'd ever felt in his life.
Grace shivered again, moving a leg to prop it up before she gave a roll of her hips and held back a moan. Did she need to be self concsious? No. Her lover was a giant orc. So, Grace bit her lip, pressing back into Motark so her sweaty skin prrssed to his and moved a hand down between her legs. "I want more," she declared, working her fingers against her clit, eyes falling closed, pushing back against Motarks cock, "just one more," she gasped greedily, "please?"
"I'll give you as much as you want," Motark said, moving his hips so that his length would rub against her. He lifted her leg a bit higher, and without much delay, his length was pushing into her once again, followed by some slow but powerful thrusting.
Grace grunted, rolling her hips back, lips bitten red. A slave. Grace was this orcs slave. There was little she could control but she could control this to a degree. "As much as I want?" She breathed, colour high on her cheeks, her long blonde hair clinging to her skin.
"To keep me warm?" She breathed, pushing back into him, finger still rolling over her clit to bring more pleasure and heat, already her insides gripped him like a silken fist. "Because im always cold," Grace bit her lip and looked at him, "do you want me on my knees?" She breathed, giving him a sleepy pleased look.
Motark thrust into her a few more times at that angle, before he rolled onto his back. He slipped put of her in the motion, but he took the opportunity to kiss her.
"Better yet. Ride me."
Grace gave a delighted noise, pressing into the kiss enthusiastically before she pressed her hands to his hard chest. Grace took a moment to marvel at her lover. Her keeper. Her master. Grace bit hee lip a moment before she shuffled backwards, dragging his cock between her legs before she fixed it.
Her hand clasped around it and she had to crouch to even press it against herself properly. Though Grace was nothing if not enthusiastic about her newest past time.
Grace moaned, head tipped back and eyes fluttered closed when she sank down upon him and once she had him as deep as she could get she rode him. The only times she wasnt watching his face was when her eyes were closed. His name was a heated chant on her lips and she rocked against him harder. Bound and determined to squeeze anotber orgasm from him.
"I love the feeling of you coming in me," she hissed, "coming undone inside me," Grace rose and fell upon him with loud slaps, "i cant be free but here, doing this with you," she looked down at him, dug her fingers into his chest, "i can have the illusion."
Her words resonated with Motark. For one, those words sounded awfully like the words of a lover, and not only that, but they were a reflection.
Motark was chief, yes, but he was a prisoner of his tribe's systems. With Grace, Motark felt like he could be the kind, gentle orc he always wanted to be. His hips cocked upwards to meet Grace, although he was conscious of her limitations. As pleasurable as it had been in the moment, Motark would rather not burden Grace with the soreness caused by cervical penetration.
"Ride me harder, then," Motark said.
"I want to fill you to the brim."
Grace started with gentle movements, eyes closed while she concentrated. Finally though, she caught her rhythem and before long she was bouncing on his lap, determined to make him come first. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her hands were planted on his chest. Long golden chunks of hair curled around her body, sticking to her.
Breath ragged, she took him as deeply as she could before pain set in. Fingers digging into his chest while she worked herself into a frenzy, "Motark," she purred, seating herself, giving little rolls of her hips. Her hands clutched at her breasts and she moved her hands down to her abdomen, squeezing her thighs.
Then she was moving again on him, looking determined, frustrated and flushed.
Motark rose a bit on his elbow, hand going to the side of her neck. His thumb stroked Grace's cheek as she rode. He let out a groan, and let himself lie back again.
"Trying to take me deeper?" Motark asked. His eyes closed when her hands gripped his chest, one hand going over to cover Grace's.
"Take me."
Grace moved eagerly, eyes closed, head tipped back. Breath coming out in heated quick pants, her thighs were tense and she leaned forward to make the falls not as heavy so she could move quicker. The sounds were lewd and every time she picked up the wet noises she tightened, little gasps leaving her mouth. "Motark," She whined fingers digging into his chest before she leaned back up, giving him a determined look.
Grace began again slowly, sinking down as far as she could take him before she rose back up, going a little farther each time. A frustrated shake of her head before she dug her fingers into his chest, panting, sweaty and finally riding him widely, her breasts were bouncing with her movements, most of her body was obscured by her long curtain of gold hair. "Fill me to the brim," she begged, giving him back his words, breath ragged, "I wanna come," another plead, "But not before you."
Perhaps, one day she'd look back on her time with him in this tent with shame though, for the time being she would revel in being allowed to act like this. Like some wild animal tasting the sweetness of taboo fruit.
[Again, no preggers on the dice. It looks like these two lovers got away with it yet again.]
Motark let out a shaky breath, hips surging upwards as Grace came down. He was so close to disappearing his full length into her, but even then, he found himself at the edge. His hands went to Grace's waist, and he helped her rise and fall on him as his breaths shortened.
"Grace, I--"
Motark cut off with a snarl, and he pushed her down onto him. Her inner boundaries stretched against him, but he didn't penetrate her cervix.
"I'm coming!"
Warmth shot right into the deepest recesses of Grace's womanhood, filling her to the brim and beyond.
Grace gave a mewl of pleasure before going quiet and tense, backs and tremours ran through her body. One hand on her breast and the other hovering over her stomach where she felt him coming. Each pulse set her off and she came hard for a number of seconds before she flopped backwards, legs spread and arms wide. Her hand went to her empty womanhood, his come gushing from her over her fingers and she wiped it off on her belly and with eyes closed remained twitching, breath hitching.
"I could get used to doing that," She breathed, cracking an eye, sounding incredibly sleepy.
Which she was.
because Grace fell asleep not long after, hands resting on her belly and her legs awkwardly open.
Motark fell still beneath Grace, not even caring that his come was coming out of her and back onto him. He put his arms up, hugging Grace to him ever so gently.
"Me too, Grace..."
Once she was asleep, he gently turned over so that they were on their sides.
Grace slept deeply.
The uncomfortable sleep from the night before drew her down into a dark dreamless sleep.
It was a good number of hours later that Grace woke with a state, eyes wide, naked. Sticky between the legs. She looked to the giant orc beside her and terror ran through her system before she remembered. Realized.
Grace pressed a hand to her chest, looking around the tent.
Heart hammering.
What had she done?
Grace swallowed carefully before she gave a heavy shiver, away from the heat of the giant man. Away from the fire. Before, going home had been a sweet thought. A possibility. Now. Who would have her after this?
"Motark?" She whispered, voice soft, quiet like a little mouse. Afraid. "Motark, are you awake?" She shuffled further away, growing colder and colder as the seconds ticked by.
Unlike Grace, Motark had dreams. Mostly abstract niceties and the gentle fantasies one had after an incredibly intimate experience with another person.
Grace's voice was too soft to wake the giant orc, but her movements roused him from his slumber. He murmured pleasantly, and his eyes cracked open.
"Grace?"
He saw that she was scared, that she was trying to get away.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm never going home, am I." She trembled out, looking at him in all his nude glory. Looking down at herself. Swallowing carefully she rubbed at her chest, taking a little breath and carefully gathering her hair to pull it over her shoulders, to cover herself, "Can we bathe?" She shook her head, "I... I..." she motioned to herself, "I'm... Messy. I don't... I don't like it... Right now."
"We can," Motark said, and he rose up to his knees, standing up from there. He went to one of his chests and pulled out a fur Grace could cover up in.
"I feel sticky too..."
A little nod and she stood up and followed after him, licking her lips and looking him up and down.
She'd slept with that.
In more than one way.
They'd been intimate.
How had that fit?
Grace swallowed, rubbing her chest, at least it made sense why between her legs ached. Grace wasn't sure if it was a good ache or a bad ache yet. Swallowing she followed closely to Motark and quickly grabbed his hand, curling her hands around it and pressing herself to his arm. "I... I enjoyed what we did together," She said quietly, feeling like she needed to let him know that, "I just... I'm really yours now. All yours."
"Grace..." Motark started, and he looked down at her. He placed a hand against her cheek, thumb stroking her temple.
He knelt down so that he was level with her.
"Making love to me doesn't mean I own you any more or less than I did before. It was something we did because we both wanted to."
Grace gave a little nod, leaning her cheek into his hand.
"Alright," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning in to kiss him, pulling back with a slight smile. "Bath now?"
"Bath," Motar said, standing up. He let her keep his arm in her grasp, and he made sure the furs were snug around her.
He stepped through his throne room, and nodded at one of his guards as he passed. The guard gave Grace a knowing leer as she passed.
"Dod you sleep well?" Motark said, looking down at her.
Grace glanced around at her surroundings, accidentally catching the eyes of the guard. A hot blush rose on her cheeks and she ducked her head down and squeezed her eyes shut. "I guess so," she whispered, "did you?"
"I slept wonderfully," Motark said.
"Best sleep in a long while..."
Grace cast him a brief look before her head turned down again, blushing hotly before she rubbed her hands together and tried not to look around. No doubt anyone within earshot would know what had happened and the slight awkward gait to her. "Do you... Usually not sleep well?" Conversation seemed safe. Sort of. Well, it didn't, but Grace could pretend.
"I sleep fine enough," Motark said, and they arrived at the bathhouse. He opened the door and entered, and he shrugged off his loincloth. He stepped down into the small basin.
"But I never have any amazing sleep."
Grace caught whatever glance she could, hating that she grew warm just at the sight of him. He was big and scary. Could rip her in two if he saw fit. So why did she desire him so much? Grace closed her eyes briefly, letting the furs fall from her body. Her hands smoothed over her naked flesh and she joined him in the basin, a leg on either side of his. "I could... I could help you sleep amazing all the time if you like," her voice was quiet and she splashed water on herself and leaned in to press against him so their chests touched.
Motark was quiet at her words, but after a few seconds he smiled, and put his hands on her sides.
"I would like that," Motark said.
Motark shared Grace's sentiment, except for the hate part. Motark seemed to like it when Grace set his blood a few degrees warmer.
His hands on her flesh had her shiver. Grace closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of his hands before she inched away, leaning back and givinf Motark quite the view of his little pet. "Can i sleep with you on your bed?" She finally asked, dipping her head back to get her hair wet, "i know i sneak in there." She licked her lips and sat up, hands moving to rest on his thighs between hers, eyeing his cock. Perhaps it was a good thing she'd never done anythjnf before this beast. Grace would have willingly become some lady lf the night.
"I want it again," she eyed him, "is that normal? I thought women werent supposed to like sex." She folded her arms over her chest, lookong grumpy and frustrated.
Motark nodded at Grace's question.
"You may join me in my bed," Motark said, and he looked like he wanted to say more, but then she was eyeing him. He looked back up to her, and at her second question, he chuckled a bit. All he had experience with was orcish women, and almost universally, the women of the Red Sun clan were fiery and insatiable lovers.
"No, that's just an incorrect thought," Motark said, and he leaned forward to give Grace a gentle kiss.
"Sex is great, and I don't think there's anyone alive who doesn't like it."
Grace leaned into the kiss, taking the gentle touches and loving caresses where she could. Grace caught Motarks hand and pressed it to her chest, eyes closing for a moment before she snuggled in against him, still sleepy. "Well, when ever you feel like it, i'll... I'll probably be fine with doing it," she nodded.
"You told me you still wanted it," Motark started, hand going from her chest to her breast. His other arm pulled her closer so she could snuggle even more.
"So how about now?"
Grace blushed brightly and smoothed her wet curtain of hair over her shoulder. Heat picked up in her belly and she swallowed thickly, looking up at him before she took a shaky breath and nodded, eyes closed. "I... okay," she smoothed her hand over her thighs and dipped forward to press a kiss to his chest, "only if you want to, too," she said softly, eyes looking away.
"Of course I want to," Motark said, and he kissed the top of Grace's head. His hands started to explore and caress her. It was clear that Motark enjoyed the feeling of her soft skin and flesh.
"I want to feel your warmth around me..."
Grace looked around the room, eyes darting back and forth before she chewed on her lower lip and smoothed her hands over her breasts. Heart beat picking up. She pressed her hand between her legs and shuffled closer on his lap, hands caressing him. "I want to feel you too," she admitted, blush high on her cheeks while she rose up slightly, hovering above him, "I like how warm you are."
Motark leaned forward to give Grace a deep, slow kiss. He reached down and felt at her womanhood for a few moments, even slipping his finger inside of her to tease. He slipped it right out, and oriented himself for entry.
The tip of his member sat against Grace's entrance, and he shifted his hips slightly so that he'd rub against her.
Grace gasped softly, head tilting back, chest thrust forward. A whine of longing when he removed his finger but she reached between them to grind against him, rubbing herself with mindless abandon. Cheeks flushed she pressed the tip to her entraced and slowly sank down upon him.
It didnt take much.
A few moments and she was flush against him, mouth dropped open, eyes closed. A few moments to get used to it and she began to move, rocking back and forth with needy whimpering noises.
Motark's eyes closed as Grace sank down on him. The first time was so different from now, and the way he just slid home into her took his breath away. His hands went to her hips as she started to rock, helping her move.
The world melted away. Grace rocked quickly, his member nestled inside her against a particular spot that made her moan each time she rocked back. Her hands went to the rim of the basin, white knuckled, searching for her pleasure, she leaned in to press her lips to his before.
She looked down, lip bitten between her teeth, another needy moan. "Youre so warm," she whispered, heat blooming in her, "I was always so cold before." It amazed her, to be so warm without fire, to feel so full, to feel such pleasure. Still, she rocked against him, growing a little more frantic with each passing moment.
Motark recognized that building rhythm of hers, and he started to buck his hips to meet her.
"If you're ever cold, I will warm you," Motark said.
"Do you promise?" She breathed, eyes closed but after a moment she smirked, "I'm always cold, remember?" Grace rocked her hips against him, mouth dropping open after a few moments. She paused briefly, sinking upon him as deep as she could take him, "warm me," she begged. Tight around him she sank and lifted herself in a gentle rhythm.
Motark took Grace by the sides and start to lift her, essentially doing the moving for her as he brought her up and down on his cock.
"I promise."
Grace squeaked out a moan, eyes squeezed shut tightly, hands moving to grip Motark's forearms. "Yes," she cried, breasts bouncing with the movements, "More," She moaned, head tilted back, "Faster, harder." She demanded, doing her best to move with him to aid both of their pleasures.
At that moment, Grace really was Motark's little doll. The way he effortlessly moved her even as she clung to his forearms for dear life could evoke no other imagery.
And he gave her more. Their pelvises started to collide with almost stunning force even as Motark's length stroked the deepest parts of her.
Each collision was accented by a high pitched gasp. Grace's fingers dug into his forearms and she bit her lip hard. A heated moan and each movement had her almodt wailing. Grace was quick to orgasm, head thrown forward and spine tam rod straight. His name was a gutteral moan and she went noodly in his arms, panting harshly.
Grace might've been out of it for the moment, but Motark wasn't even close to done. Gently, he picked her up off of him and turned about, laying Grace on the edge of the washbasin. He leaned down to kiss her, giving her more time to catch her breath, before he was pushing into her all over again.
Grace moaned, legs spread and up, shifting to take as much as she could from him. For a moment she wondered what kind of woman she was, to so wontonly submit to this giant beast of a man. Then she remembered how good this felt and how safe she was. With him at least. Her hands dug in where they could and she rolled her hips in responce to his movements, an eager participant in their activities. Grace looked at him after a moment before a startled little laugh bubbled out of her and she smiled, cheeks flushed and knees tucked against the sides of his chest.
Motark tilted his head a bit curiously, and the corners of his mouth edged up into a smile.
"What's so funny?" he asked, tone playful, which was something odd, coming from him. His pace was slow, but deliberate. He wasn't being that gentle, but he was moving slow enough for her to experience all of him as pleasurably as possible.
Grace sucked in a breath, eyes falling closed and she let her head tilt back. "This," she motioned between them, esch roll of her hips into his, each jolt of pleasure, "I want to do this forever with you," she confessed, giving a squeak moan, growing tighter with her on coming peak.
"I didnt imagine this for me when we met," she arched her back, smoothing her hands over her front, "but now that its happening i dont want anything else." If being his slave meant she got to live the rest of her life doing this, was it really that bad? Being a pet? Being pleasured and fed? Grace bit her lip, moving her hips encouragingly.
"I... I couldn't imagine it either," Motark admitted. He gripped her breasts, fondling her as their hips continued to collide.
Motark winced , and he leaned down to kiss her.
"I love how you feel."
Grace gave herself to the kiss, eyes squeezed shut, pressing into it. "Good," she panted against him, loving the way he felt inside her. Nestled between her thighs, deep inside her, Grace tensed up again, biting her lip. Was she using him?
A little bit. Now that shed experienced the pleasure she wanted to get drunk from it everyday. How did anyone do anything? "I want to feel you," she panted, rolling her hips, voice growing louder as he pleasure grew. No doubt anyone outside would hear but Grace was too wrapped up to care.
One of Motark's hands held her breast as he sped up a bit, to give Grace that feeling she so desired. He pushed himself to go deeper, until he could fit no more of himself in her, and he ground their hips together.
Grace whimpered, head falling forward even as she arched her back. Instead of a name, she gave a heated noise, panting heavily. "I'm..." she gasped out, going tense before every loosed and she came with a gasp, flushed and panting. Her fingers were tight around his wrist and her teeth were chewing on her lip. Head down, panting, she started to move again to help Motark along to his peak, out of breath and sleepy eyed.
Motark was close, she'd be able to feel it in the way his breath quickened and pace sharpened. He let his head hang a bit lower, and his eyes closed as he pushed.
"Grace, I'm going to come," he managed.
"Please," she whined, giving little nods, breath picking uo and fingers digging into his flesh. A sharp gasp and she went tense again, Grace bit her lip and shifted her weight. Breathing deeply, lips flushed red.
[Didn't roll for this one. I didn't want to start a trend of characters making babies in bathhouses 8D]
Motark filled her to the last drop, letting his seed out with a groan. When he was done, he slumped slightly, and he retreated back into the water. He brought Grace with him, so that she sat on his lap, hips still flush against him, and he loosened up considerably.
"Grace..."
Motark looked at Grace, and smiled a bit.
"I think I want to do this as much as possible."
[Ha. I forgot about all that.]
Grace melted against him, tremors still running through her body. She looked back at him and returned his smile, a giggle bubbling out of her, too melty to do much but relax against him. "You didnt before?" She questioned softly, letting her head rest against him.
Motark chuckled at her question.
"You got me there."
He embraced her, surrounding her with the strong muscle of his arms.
"I'm going on a hunt today, later in the afternoon,"' Motark said.
"I'll be back close to midnight."
Grace froze, leaning back and looking up at Motark. "Will i stay in your tent?" She smoothed her hand over her belly, biting her lip, "no one will come in, right?" Cuddling back, she nuzzled against his chest and sighed.
"You will," Motark said, and he stroked the back of Grace's head as she nuzzled against his chest.
"Nobody will come in. You'll have the place to yourself until I return."
Grace looked up at him, though she was hesitant and nodded. "I'll sleep, i think." She smiled and snuggled in, "I think I wont mind being your pet so much anymore."
Motark smiled a bit at her words. Had he been raised like a human, her words would've put up red flags of all sorts. Motark didn't realize it because the concept of being superior and pretty much owning someone was everyday for him, but Grace toed a very fine line.
"I'll leave you with some food, in case you get hungry," Motark said.
He let his head rest back, and enjoyed the feeling of Grace snuggled up against him.
Grace smiled and cuddled back, a content smile on her lips. She guides his hands along her body and let her eyes fall closed, though she gave a little wiggle. "Are you going to bathe me?" She teased, voice soft.
Motark's hands drifted along Grace's shoulders, descending along her sides and stopping at her hips, where he felt at that soft flesh.
"Are the oils nearby?" Motark said, and he opened his eyes to glance about.
Grace looked around, reaching forward and grabbing the various items and pulling them closer. "Are these them?" She asked, looking at them curiously and then to Motark, head tilted, "will we smell of flowers?" She teased.
"We will!" Motark said, a cheery tone to his voice.
he gave her hip a pat.
"I know it's hard, but I'm going to have to pull out of you and you're going to need to stand for me to wash you."
Grace gave a little nod, lip between her teeth before she slowly stood up. The feeling of him leaving her sent a shiver up her spine with a soft gasp. Still, she stood and turned to face him, hands up and looking at him a little nervously.
Motark returned Grace's nervous little look with a warm smile, and he applied the oils to his hands. he stood up with her and he slowly lathered his hands along her body.
Grace shivered at his touch, letting her eyes fall closed, placing her hands on his. She shivered again and held her legs tight together. Perhaps some of that drink still coursed through her body because she was needy and wriggly again in no time.
"Do you also want to smell of flowers?" She teased, guiding his hands along her more sensitive areas before she began to rub the oils into her skin, too.
"I do," Motark replied, playing along with Grace. He held her by the hips, hands stroking along the sensitive flesh of her side.
"Can you help me put it on?"
Grace blinked at him and gave a hesitant nod.
Taking the oil she turned around and started to smooth it along his skin. She blinked at it for a moment, tilting her head. Surely a tribe of orcs didn't have better bathing habits than the refined people of Connlaoth. She wrinkled her nose and continued to smooth her hands over his flesh.
He was huge.
"This'll take me all day!" She exclaimed, pretending -mostly - to look put off by the idea, "It'd take me a good hour to rub down your chest." She pursed her lips, "How about I get your back and you get the rest?" She looked at his hands on her sides, one hand practically covered most of her, "Once you finish me." She smiled at him and fluttered her eyes.
[So like I just remembered this topic. Is it too late to bring it back?]
"I don't find you rubbing my chest for an hour to objectionable," Motark rebutted, and he turned about on her to finish applying the soapy oil to her.
For someone so massive, he was delicate with his fingers, making sure to get every last inch of her cleaned and lathered.
Grace let herself relax. It was still scary. Everything was scary. Grace melted under his touch and leaned back into it before she turned around, moving his hands to her chest and pressing hers to his chest.
"Good," she said softly, shifting closer and curling a top motark with a sigh. "When do we have to leave?"
"As soon as we want to," Motark said, and he gave her a gentle smile. He fondled her chest, dipping in to kiss her.
Grace smoothed her hands over his and gave into the kiss. It was still odd, experiencing such gentle movements from so huge a... Man? Beast. Creature. A little press of her hands to his against her chest and she looked off to the side. "Well, how about you just... Pick me up and cart me off," She licked her lips, "Should you be ... um... Doing it with me? Is that what I'm for? Maybe throw me over your shoulder on the way out. So you look... Beastly." She nudged his hands against her chest with a teasing little smile.
"There is no "should" or "should not," Grace," Motark said, letting his hands rest on her hips.
"Only want," He continued, and he met her eyes.
"And I know that I want you."
There was a scrunch of her nose and she gave a curious tilt of her head. "I was talking about leaving the area. With me over your shoulder," Grace shook her head with a soft laugh, "what are you talking about?"
Motark's eyes widened a bit. Funnily enough, an embarrassed look flashed across his face.
"Oh, maybe I didn't understand you correctly," he said, his eyes turning downwards.
Was he blushing?
Grace laughed, surprised and she leaned in giving him a curious entertained look.
"Ohh?" She teased, giving his shoulder a gentle little push, "What did you think I meant?"
"I thought you wanted to mate again. So that I could throw you over my shoulder," Motark said, returning her look. His hands slid to her hips, where they rested quite comfortably. His thumbs stroked the soft flesh of her side.
"Am I wrong?"
Grace laughed, her voice a sweet bell.
"Again?" She teased, moving her hands to his on her waist, "I just meant... To look like you owned me." She smoothed her hands up his arms and leaned in, pressing her cheek to his chest, "But... I guess if you wanted to. Don't you have to hunt though?" She asked, voice soft, curious. "We should get back to your hut and... I don't know. I don't know anything about you, we could... do that. Before you leave. Or after you get back."
"I do have to hunt," Motark said, expression dropping slightly. He passed a hand over her head.
"But that just means I'll have you waiting for me when I get back."
Grace sighed, eyes closed and pressed against his hand.
"I'll wait," she teased, because she had nothing else to do, "Maybe nap. You make me pretty sleepy."
"Oh!" Motark started, and he looked down at her.
"I could introduce you to the tribe artisan. You can practice your metalworking."
Grace played with her fingers while she leaned heavily against Motark. A quick glance away and she chewed on her lower lip. A chill climbed up her spine but for the usual reasons. She was cold again.
"Will that be alright?" She asked softly, looking a little worried, "I only know how to make... pretty things."
"And you'll make pretty things," Motark said, stroking her hair.
"The artisans make the trophies for warriors and the jewelry for the villagers."
Grace sighed and nodded.
It would be good to have a place here.
Even if it were fleeting. No doubt soon he would grow bored of her. Unable to give him anything other than... Fleeting lust? "I'd like... To be useful. At least in some way," Grace smiled, dipped her head down and sighed. "Maybe I'll have something nice for you when you get back?"
"I'd like that," Motark said, looking down at her with a smile.
"Maybe I'll bring you something from the forest."
A bright smile and Grace grabbed Motarks arn, pressing her cheek to it.
"I'd like that," and she looked at the door, then at Motark, "um.. should we go now?" A look away and she leaned in.
"I'd be as good a time as ever," Motark said, and he laid a hand on Grace's hip.
"Go on, then."
A deep breath and she paused for a moment, enjoying the lingering of bus touch. She felt safe, and she gave a quick nuzzle of his arm before she started to leave. "Are we going back to your tent or... To the smith?"
"Well, your clothes are here, so unless you want to get anything, we can go to the smith," Motark said.
He stood from the water, skin glistening, knowing that the view he was giving Grace was stunning to say the least. He took his sweet time drying off and getting dressed, too.
Right.
"Clothing," she nodded, watching him dry off. Standing naked still, pressing a hand to her abdomen and growing heated again at the sight of him before she turned her face away. Grace smoothed her hands over her breasts before she started to dress and nodding.
"Going to leave me with that image, huh?" She teased, voice quivering, "Making me eager for your return?"
Motark chuckled, and he levelled his eyes at her as he fastened his fur kilt.
"That's the plan," he said, shooting her a grin.
"Do not worry. I will miss you as well."
Grace nodded and quickly turned away.
Careful to tie her hair back in a braid, she fixed her clothing and made sure she was covered up. A small smile was directed to Motark when he shot her a grin and she glanced away and down, a flush on her cheeks. The cold set in quickly and she gave a shiver. Without the body contact or being near a fire, Grace returned to her natural setting of 'being cold.'
"Alright. I'm ready when you are," she huffed out, "Is it the sooner you leave the sooner you can come back?" Her voice was quiet and she swallowed, leaning in, looking up at him, "Because I'm cold without you." It scared her a little, to be ... Wanting. To not want to leave him. Because if he left she would be... What here. Meat? A plaything? Grace moved to Motark to curl her arm around his and press her cheek to it before she sighed, "Do you want a ring? Perhaps... An earring? Maybe a... Hm. What's small and that you can hide? I can make one of those."
"Maybe... something I can hang from my helmet?" Motark said.
"Or a pin for my armor."
Grace brightened at the idea, a smile and she nodded.
"I... Can do that. Something small," She paused before giving a quiet laugh, "And not cute. Hm." She pondered, "I'll have to think about it." A purse of her lips and she looked at Motark, "You're not going to bring me a loose leg, are you...?" Her voice quivered because she was fairly sure that's exactly what he would be bringing back.
"A leg? Of course not, " Motark said, chuckling a bit deeper.
"It'll be something nice. You'll see."
A curious look up at him, a purse of her lips and she gave him a gentle nudge with her fingers.
"I'm trusting you," She said, voice soft, just in case it carried out of the room. Licking her lips, Grace took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Okay, I'm ready for you to leave me with a strange so I can stuff my hands in some fire to warm up again." An expectant look up at him, eyes bright and a little smile, "And, if you leave, you'll be coming back."
Motark smiled at her words, and he gave her cheek a gentle stroke as he stepped out of the tent.
He guided her to the artisan's hut, which was a ten-minute walk from Motark's own hut. Once they arrived, Motark opened the flap and ushered Grace inside. The interior was a fairly sized workshop, with three orcs already inside. Two were women, one young, one in her later years, and the other was a young orc boy, no older than thirteen.
The women gave Grace an odd look, before turning their eyes to their chief.
Motark spoke in orc, and he put his hand on Grace's shoulder. The older woman seemed pensive for a few moments, before she responded, and Motark smiled. He looked down to grace.
"She says she'll show you to the forge," Motark said.
"Come, softskin," said the older orc woman. Her common was passable.
"I'll show you where everything is. We have lots of work today, so I hope you're fast," she muttered as she turned about.
Softskin.
Grace looked down at her hands, which she would admit, looked dainty and smooth.
Was she supposed to speak? Grace just nodded, keeping quiet, casting her eyes down. It was hard to remember that Motark was unusual in his treatment of her. Grace was a thing here. Not a person. Could they hurt her if she spoke back? Grace gave a long look to Motark, looking a little afraid but she gave him a quick smile and started to follow the older Orc woman without prompting, ready to work.
Get her mind off of extra curricular activities that would have to wait until later.
Grace gnawed on her lip and tried to smile politely before she flexed her fingers. It had been weeks since she'd done anything like this, maybe months? "I'm ready," She said simply without thinking, looking at everything and offering another little smile. Unsure of what they wanted her to do, she kept quiet and watched intently.
Motark gave Grace a reassuring smile, and he left, leaving her in the care of the woman.
"My name Jetra, " she said as she stepped over to a small forge. It looked well tended, and while the tools at it were a bit crude, it was a fairly complete setup.
"Young girl named Toria. Unblooded boy named Hem."
She went over to a few covered baskets and opened the lid, revealing one to be full of shiny stones, jewels, and crystals, while the other had chunks of ore of all kinds, mostly copper, tin, iron, and some gold.
"Every morning, requests come in. Wedding on this day, manhood ritual another. Chief say you can shape metal. I think your hands are too soft, but the chief is wise, so maybe he knows something I don't."
She pointed to an axe that was at the forge. It was a two-handed affair with a no-frills, reliable construction.
"War end very recently. Plenty of honored warriors who want their weapons made special, to pass down to children. This one want weapon to reflect fire in soul, and heat of battle."
She turned to leave Grace to it.
"I will let you figure. If you need more things, call my name. Not too loud, we're all working here."
Unblooded? Grace cast a look to Hem, eyes wide, a little worried. What did that mean? A quick glance away, head down before she blinked rapidly. Somewhere unfamiliar and alone, Grace moved a hand to her chest as if to calm her beating heart.
It wouldnt do well to be afraid here
Grace followed Jetra, giving her a worried look. Weapons?
Deep breaths.
A moment to close her eyes and she rolled her shoulders. She could do this. Grace tied her hair back and after calming herself down, she moved to the weapon, frowning that it was so heavy. Fire of soul and heat of battle.
"Well that's vague," she muttered, displeased. It was probably odd, to see the tiny woman collect things and bring them back, watch the girl move as the rest of the world flowed away.
Watch her stuff half her arm directly into the forge.
It felt nice to be warm again and she pulled her hand out and flexed it with a sigh, eyes closed. Grace worked singlemindedly, growing fluhed and her breathing laboured while she worked. There wasn't a thought to how much time had passed.
Though she looked at the finished product and frowned. Fire in Soul and heat in battle. It was a little... ornate now. More beautiful than intimidating and she tested an edge to make sure, hissing with surprise when she cut her thumb along the edge.
A frown and she popped it into her mouth while she sat. Though, quickly enough she wandered back to the loose ore, gathered some along with a single cut sapphire she'd found in amoungst the jewels. Silver and blue, she decided, it was her favourite combination so... That's what she made Motark. A little charm, small, easily hidden. A quiet thanks for... Being him.
Grace smiled softly while she shaped the metal in her hands, staring into the fire and letting her eyes close briefly at the warmth only a fire could give her.
When the proud owner of the axe came by to pick it up, he was expecting the usual work of the artisans. Perhaps a stone set into place in the hilt, a polish put onto the blade, and an engraving that spoke of the warrior's deeds.
But what he received from Grace left his jaw hanging.
It barely looked like the crude, orc-built thing that it had started as. The ornate decorations and gleaming edge spoke of a craftsmanship much higher in capability than any uneducated orc could hope to achieve.
Jetra and Toria stood, not in awe, but in silent approval. Jetra was impressed, to say the very least, and once the bewildered owner of the axe had left, she approached Grace and stated that she definitely would have a use for her in the future.
Not too long after, Hem, who'd gone out to fetch more wood, bounded into the artisan's hut.
"The chief is back!" he said, voice brimming with excitement. He spoke in orcish, but Motark's name stood out from the sentence.
Jetra nodded curtly, and looked to Grace.
"Did well today. Return to chief, tell how you did. Come back tomorrow for more work."
Grace looked at her thumb. More worried about that than the reaction the orc would give. Still, Grace blushed and ducked her head down, not really sure what to do with the praise. Perhaps she'd done too well. Still blissfully warm from her time elbow deep in fire, she had a nice warm buzz going on and tucked the little sneakily made present into her top.
Then back to staring at her thumb.
When the boy bounded by, she caught Motark's name and blinked widely, unable to help the little smile that was on her lips. Good. Grace found that, while not mean the rest of the orcs were intimidating and with Motark at least she felt safe. Deep breaths. A brief moment to close her eyes and she looked to Jetra.
Return to chief? Alone?
Grace closed her eyes for a moment, pulling her hair from the makeshift bun she'd put it in to keep it from being in her hair. A little smile to Jetra, a nod and she scurried back to Motark's tent, enjoying the remnants of the warmth from the forge. It would disappear soon enough but for the time being, she was a tiny furnace and she couldn't wait to show Motark the gift she'd made him.
Letting herself into his home- who would deny his pet entrance? - Grace pulled the little charm from her shirt and held it in her palm before she went and sat down in front of the fire, cross legged, back to the door. A smile on her face. Being here would still be awful but... It could be a little better, she knew, and that was what mattered.
Motark and the hunters were met with a small crowd of orcs, and even from Motark's tent, she'd be able to hear the commotion as they hailed the return of their leader, whose hunting party had returned with two fully grown elks. They were far from the only hunting party that was sent out that day, but such a fruitful return begged note, nonetheless.
Only several minutes after the commotion died down, footsteps with a familiar weight sounded off in the entrance hall, and soon enough, the flap parted and Motark was there. He was wearing a sort of fur cloak over his shoulders with the hood pulled back. He had a warm smile on his face, and he was holding a small cloth bag in one hand.
A glance over her shoulder at the sounds and Grace was hesitant.
Maybe... It wasn't?
The relief was odd when it was.
A bright smile was on her face and she stood up quickly, flushed and warm and she held the trinket in her her hand before she shuffled over to him. "You're back!" She announced - like it was a surprise - and she rushed towards Motark and threw her arms around him. Perhaps she would be too warm but... Grace didn't care. She liked the heat of another body more than the heat of a forge and she snuggled in against Motark before she pulled back, "I made you something. And Jetra said I should go back tomorrow." Then she paused.
"What does unblooded mean?"
"That's good! You'll be a village artisan in no time at all," Motark said, and he wrapped an arm around Grace, encasing her in that warmth.
"Unblooded boys and girls are young warriors in training. They have not gone to war at all," he continued, and he walked to his bed, still holding that cloth bag. He took a seat on his bed, and he smiled at her, patting the space next to him.
"I brought you something from the forest," he said, holding the bag out to her.
If she opened it and looked inside, she'd find a bundle of assorted wildflowers. Blues, reds, purples, and yellows, all tied together by a vine of moss into a makeshift bouquet.
Grace hummed into the embrace.
While she was still toasty warm from the furnace, the warmth from another living being trumped all and Grace found herself snuggling into Motarks arm while she listened to him letting go and watching him move to his bed. Enthusiastically she followed after him, sitting beside him and looking at him brightly.
"You did?" She said, voice soft, surprised.
Grace gratefully took the bag and looked into it, reaching inside and lifting it up and out and... Smiled.
"You..." She looked to Motark, a flush on her cheeks, smiling, "Did you pick these? For me?"
Motark nodded, placing a hand on Grace's lap as he looked down at her.
"I did. Different flowers for different parts of the forest," Motark said. There was a few moments of silence, before Motark leaned in and left a kiss on top of Grace's head.
"When I was out there, I was thinking more about coming back to see you than I was on the hunt."
Grace curled her free hand on top of Motark's and pressed her face into the flowers, eyes closed, inhaling.
A slow look was given to Motark and she felt her breath hitch, eyes wide. A flush was on her cheeks and she looked away, "Honestly... I just liked making things again," She said bashfully, looking at the flowers again. As if remembering, she placed the bouquet on her lap and fumbled around in her top for the trinket she made him.
Looking at it in her palm now it was... Perhaps too fancy.
Still, Grace held it out to him a little hesitantly looking away shyly. "You don't... Have to wear it or anything but... I just want you to have it."
Motark's eyes widened just a bit at the silver and blue thing she held out to him. It seemed that even Motark, with his wider world view, had deemed such beautiful things to be something he'd just never see in his life. Sure, the humans would wear shiny things to battle, but never jewelry, and never something like this.
"Grace, this is... it's beautiful," Motark said, and he leveled his eyes at her.
"I'll find a place for it," he said, and he scooted a bit cloer to her, putting his arm around her.
"Maybe I'll use it as the pin for my cloak."
Grace smiled brightly and looked at him, though quickly turned her head away and flushed. Embarrassment? Was she pleased? Grace was at least happy to be carving out her own little niche here. If there was something beautiful she could make, it was jewelry. When he moved his arm around her, Grace leaned into it, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes.
"I can hear your heartbeat," She mumbled, sighing. Still she felt delightfully warm from the forge but... She knew that wouldn't last long, so she placed the flowers in her lap and curled her arms around Motark's torso, eyes still closed and snuggled in. "I just... Want you to have it. You don't have to use it or... Show it off or anything. I didn't even buy the material..." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, "I make pretty things," She said softly, "They're not really useful."
"There's not enough pretty things out here," Motark said, and he held Grace a bit tighter.
He left a small kiss on top of her head, hands wandering to her hips.
"I missed you today. I spent a lot of time thinking about coming back and seeing you..."
Grace gave a surprised laugh, looking up at him blue eyes wide and she just smiled.
"That sounds like it could have gotten you into some trouble," she teased softly, looking at his hands, "Have I weedled my way so far into your head?" Grace leaned in and smiled at him, looking, perhaps, a little too pleased with herself.
"Hmph," Motark said, mouth turning upwards.
"Mostly your voice. And the little sounds you make," he said, giving her a smile in turn.
Grace tried not to laugh, but she did try to look scandalized, "The sounds I make!" she questioned, leaning in to look at him, "What sounds are those! I don't make sounds!"
"Oh, you make plenty," Motark continued, and one of his hands gripped her ass.
"Should I show you?"
Grace flushed, eyes widening.
A thick swallow and she looked away for a moment before she realized, "Oh... Those noises," and she shivered and licked her lips and she looked back at him, turning bashful and shy. "Did you miss me that much?" She whispered, shifting to turn to him, leaning over to put the flowers on the ground so they wouldn't get crushed.
"I... did," Motark admitted.
He tilted his head a bit to her.
"Did you?"
Graced leaned back and smiled, fingers working at the ties of her top because as shy as she was, she liked Motark's hands on her more. "I was excited about making things again," She admitted with a bright smile, pushing her hair over her shoulder as surely as she pulled off her shirt, breasts being exposed. "But now that you're here with me, I'm glad you're back," She moved to lean back on the bed, legs tucked over Motark's with a smirk, her hands resting on her breasts.
Motark smiled, and he leaned down, planting a kiss on Grace's lips as he laid a hand on her abdomen and it traveled upwards, covering one of her hands and breasts. He lifted his fur shirt up off of his torso, and pulled grace just that much closer.
Grace grinned up at him, heart beat picking up and she moved her hands away, wriggled closer, moving her legs to either side of Motark's thighs. "Is this what you were thinking of?" she teased, breath picking up as surely as her pulse did. Grace just looked at him, trying not to think of the fact that her choice lover was a large green beast of a man. "You missed this?"
"I missed my little doll," Motark returned, and he straightened up so he could undo his fur kilt. He towered over her as it fell away, and his member came to rest on her abdomen as he leaned back down to kiss her neck, and then her breasts.
"I want you, Grace."
A strange heat flooded her system when he said he missed her. A smile was on her lips and she closed her eyes, looking away after a moment but smiling all the same. Grace moved her legs to shimmy out of the strange furred skirt and finally, she was naked and on display. Her hand moved to his member to smooth up and down it and Grace flushed at the zing of pleasure that shot through her system at the very idea of being full of him. "I want you, too," she panted, lifting her hands away and pushing them above her head, arching her back. With only Motark here to see her, Grace didn't exactly have any sort of shame and just grinned up at him. "I missed feeling you," She whispered, eyes falling closed.
She closed her eyes, and Motark kissed her breasts again, leaving a red mark as he sucked on the flesh before he pulled back up. He brought her closer and started to tease, getting his member slick on her juices as he pushed against her, teasing her with the prospect of him entering her.
"I missed filling you. Missed the little twitches you give out when I'm in you to the base," he said, and he kissed her lips.
Grace wriggled her hips eagerly, flushed. Her hands moved to cover her breasts and she bit her lip before she curled her arms around his neck. "It's only been a day," She whispered against his lips, giving a quiet laugh because she was just as eager too. Like she'd discovered something wonderful and wanted to gorge on it while she still could - because it was gone for good. "You've had me once and now you can't go a full day without having me again?" she teased, leaning up for more kisses and grinding her core against him.
"You're just so wonderful," Motark said, shooting her a grin before he went in to give her the kisses she was seeking. One hand went to her hip and held her in place as he started to push in.
Grace arched her back and moaned when he pushed into her, his name was a high pitched noise and she squeezed his forearms. "Motark," Grace swallowed, giving eager rocks to her hips as soon as he started. If anything, Grace didn't seem over eager until Motark started and she held his biceps and tilted her head back, "Yes. Please?" she begged, trying to move closer.
Again, he couldn't get all of himself into her, but he pushed in deep and nearly reached her inner limit. He looped an arm under her, lifting her just a little off the bed and pulling her into him as he started to fuck her. The thumb on his other hand ground down on her nipple.
Grace let him move her for his own benefit, rolling her hips to his. Her hands clutched at his arms and quickly enough she was flushed and needy. His name was a growl and she bit her lip harshly. This was only after a day! Grace hoped that, should they ever part for a week, he'd take it easy on her.
"Motark!" She panted his name, looking up at him through her hair, her mouth fell open and she rocked her hips greedily. Barely fifteen minutes back and already...!
Motark couldn't deny this odd magnetism that seemed to be mutual between him and Grace. He drank of her sin quite deeply, the relishment of every movement clear on his face as his tough hands ran over her body, the contrasts sharp and the irony not lost within his mind.
"Grace..." He answered, gazing down at her as they moved together.
Grace felt warm and protected. Well, stuffed like a turkey and out of breath but being warm and protected outweighed being a little uncomfortable. Her name on his lips had her looking up at him, her face contorting as the strange, still unfamiliar pleasure bloomed in her belly. Grace opened her mouth again but instead of words a sharp gasp and a moan left.
At least it felt nice. At least he was nice. Grace moved more, cheeks flushed, glancing at the entrance of the tent while she rocked against her savior. Half waiting for someone to rush in to talk to him about something overly important that just couldn't wait. Grace pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers curling around his biceps while she tried not to mewl or shout. Shivers racked her form and she bit down hard on her lip, eyes closed. "I..." She breathed low, hiding her face, "What if..." her fingers dug into Motark's arms, nails leaving biting crescents, a sharp intake of breath cut off her words and her head tipped back, "What if...?"
"What if?" He repeated, and he slowed to give her a chance to speak. He lowered himself over her and moved slower, more intimately. He gazed down at her, this small human that had enchanted him so much more than any eager, full-bodied orc woman he'd ever seen. Maybe it was because she had that spark of kindness so rare among his own people, or maybe it was just a case of a master getting too close to a slave.
He paused, hiding it by giving these grinding little circles against her as she started to tepeat the phrase.
"Go on, Grace. What if... what?"
Grace squeezed her eyes shut, head tipped back. Her breath was hot little pants and fingers digging into orc flesh. Her voice was a soothing balm against everything and she trembled beneath him. "What if..." Grace held her breath for a moment and a flush rose up her neck, before it burst out if her in a trembling gasp.
"You're gone," she felt her eyes start to close of their own volition, shifting her weight and limbs for her own comfort. The little grinding circles he made was answered by lazy pleasure soaked movements of her own. "What if you leave. What happens to me then," Grace blinked back tears, feeling raw and vulnerable in a way she'd never felt before, though surely her situation had something to do with it.
"I don't want to be alone again." Grace paused and closed her eyes, reaching a hand up to cup Motarks cheek. "I don't want to go back. Even after you get tired of me, please, don't make me go back there."
"I don't want you to go back there," he said, propping himself up on one hand so he could stroke up along the front of her torso. He leaned down to leave a kiss on her chin, then he gripped her hips so he could help her move as he started to hammer her properly, grunting as he felt the pleasure.
"I don't want you to end up in a camp, kept prisoner," he continued, and he slowed down to screw her a little slower, more passionately.
"Maybe... you can have something here..."