The past week has been... intense. Anna and I have fallen into domestic patterns that feel like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days. I wake first, start the coffee, begin breakfast. She emerges around nine, showered and dressed and smelling like that floral shampoo that drives me insane. We eat together, do dishes, talk about nothing and everything. Dinah weaves between our feet. The kitten has become part of our lives, part of this partnership we’re building.
But underneath the comfort, there’s constant tension.
I’ve taken more cold showers this week than in my entire life. Every morning, fighting my throbbing cock that leaks with seed, ready to plant my seed in my bride. I push past the consistent urge to walk into that bedroom and help my female find the relief her body so badly needs, relief she wants me to provide, but she’s not ready. My body is ready to breed. Has been ready since the moment I caught her scent at the school. But I must give her time and let this human come to me when she’s ready to fully commit to a life together.
We’re stuck in this limbo. Living together but sleeping apart. Building intimacy but not acting on the attraction we both feel. I can scent her arousal constantly and I fantasize about things I shouldn’t. Like Anna pregnant with my sons. The image won’t leave my mind. Her belly swollen, breasts full, carrying my offspring. Then later, walking through this cabin with an infant in her arms.
I’ve got it bad.
I stand and stretch, then pad to the kitchen. Start the coffee maker, the familiar routine grounding me. Pull out ingredients for breakfast—eggs, bacon, toast. Anna’s favorites. I haven’t started cooking yet, just gathering everything on the counter.
Dinah appears from somewhere, meowing for her breakfast. “Good morning little one.” I scoop food into her bowl and she purrs, rubbing against my leg. The kitten was Anna’s idea, but I’m surprisingly attached to the small creature. I bend down to pet it, not getting in the way of her eating intensity.
The coffee maker gurgles. I pour myself a cup, black. Anna likes hers with cream and sugar. Lots of both. I’ve learned her preferences this week. How she likes her eggs scrambled soft. How she always compliments my cooking, which makes pride swell in my chest. And she insists on cleaning up the kitchen table and doing the dishes after I cook.
Anna does our laundry each day and puts the clothes away. She’s ordered many new, brightly colored pieces of clothes that arrived in the mail two days ago. Her clothes are in the same closet as mine. We share the same dresser and the same bathroom. She’s moved in and even though she doesn’t say it out loud, she doesn’t act like a temporary guest, but someone planning on staying.
Yes, we’re both still on edge, knowing that we’re only in a brief amount of calm before the end of this battle to win back her freedom and safety. But we are also building a relationship, learning how to live together.
I wasn’t sure what it was going to be like, having a female so close. My whole life has been amongst other orcs and the human males in the military. There were human females in the military, but I worked with them less often and they tended to avoid me, considering me the “scary orc.” This descriptor has followed me, from when I was at the integrated orc/human high school, through my military years and onto my work in Truckee. Whenever I was amongst humans the females always avoided me. They didn’t run, screaming in fear but they did tense and naturally began avoiding me. It’s all because of my appearance. I have the largest, most crooked nose. My tusks areabnormally large. These attributes cause my fellow orcs to give me deference; they consider this a sign of power and ability. In the human world it makes me “scary.”
I also thought it was the reason why I would never find a bride.
And yet Anna was never afraid.
I glance toward the bedroom door, sip my coffee and wait. Anna likes to stay up late and sleep in. She’s told me that the one good thing about being away from her teaching job, which I know she desperately misses, is the fact that she’s allowed to sleep in late each day.
Finally, around nine-fifteen, I hear movement. The shower starts. My imagination immediately goes to places it shouldn’t…Anna naked under the spray, water running over her curves, those hands sliding over her skin. I suspect that she’s masturbating each morning and night, bringing herself relief because she wants me that badly.
A growl rumbles in my chest.
I want to be the male who brings her relief.
I focus on the ingredients in front of me. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Simple breakfast. I can do this without thinking about my female wet and naked just down the hall. I start to sear some meat, readying her lunch ahead of time.
The shower turns off. More sounds—drawers opening, the hairdryer running. She’s taking her time today.
When the bedroom door finally opens, I look up. And nearly drop my coffee cup.
Anna walks into the kitchen wearing a bright teal sweater I’ve never seen before. Form-fitting, hugging her curves, showing the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist. Well-fitted jeans cling to her wide hips and thick thighs. Those glasses I find incredibly sexy.
She’s dressing differently.
When I first met her at Black Oak Academy, she wore neutral colors. Beige cardigans, baggy sweaters, shapeless pants. Trying to be invisible. Hiding herself. But now she wears teal. Bright, bold teal that makes her skin glow. Jeans that showcase her thick thighs and round hips. She’s not hiding anymore. This is the real Anna.
The realization makes my chest tight with emotion and my cock hard with want.
“Good morning. Coffee?” My voice comes out rougher than intended.
“Please.” She smiles and sits at the kitchen table—not the couch. Right there where I can see her. Where that teal sweater catches the light.
I pour her coffee, add cream and sugar exactly how she likes it. Bring it to her. Our hands brush when she takes the cup. Electric contact. Her breath catches. My nostrils flare, catching her scent.
She’s aroused.
Did she masturbate and bring herself to orgasm again in the shower? I thought I heard her muffled cry. I can smell it on her, that sweet, female arousal that makes every orc instinct stand on edge. “I was just about to start breakfast,” I manage.
She nods, biting her lip. That lip I want to taste. “Smells good already.”
