“Olivia,”he says, voice low, almost hoarse. “Would you… take a warrior’s vow?”
My heart skips.Not marriage, not something human and neat. Something older. Wilder. My throat goes dry.
I swallow.“Only if it involves cake.”
He blinks at me. “Cake?”
“Yes, cake,”I say firmly, fighting a grin. “If I’m going to bind myself to a grumpy orc with a penchant for breaking axes and burning firewood, there better be frosting involved.”
He staresat me for a long moment. Then, solemn as a priest, he rumbles, “I will build the cake from stone if that is what you require.”
I laugh so hardI have to bury my face in his shoulder. He holds me while I shake, his chest rumbling with something between amusement and sincerity.
When I liftmy head again, my cheeks are damp, but my heart is light. “Alright then. Warrior’s vow. Cake optional.”
He nods,eyes shining. “Then it is done. No priests. No banners. No grand stage. Just us.”
“Just us,”I echo, and something inside me clicks into place. No fanfare. No fairytale. Just a pact between souls, sealed in sweatpants and morning breath, under a roof that creaks when it rains.
But something sparksbetween us again.
Maybe it’sthe way his thumb strokes my side. Maybe it’s the way our legs are tangled together beneath the blanket, or the way the firelight paints gold across his green skin. Maybe it’s just the unspoken truth that there’s never enough time, and we want to spend what little we have tangled together.
“You’re staring again,”he murmurs.
“You’regorgeous when you’re fake-sleeping,” I reply, letting my fingers drag down his chest.
He growls softly.“And you’re irresistible when you talk about stone cakes.”
His cock twitchesagainst my thigh—hardening again, already thickening. I gasp, and his smile turns wicked.
“Need something?”he asks.
I climbon top of him, straddling his hips. “I want you.”
He grabs my hips.“Then take me.”
I reachbetween us and guide his cock to my pussy—wet, aching, eager for him again.
The first inchstretches me all over again. I hiss, and he grunts, holding still.
“You okay?”he asks, voice ragged.
“Better than okay,”I whisper, sinking down further. “You’re so fucking big—so full.”
He groans.“You’re perfect. Tight. Hot. Gods, Olivia…”
I start to ride him—slow,steady, grinding my hips to take him deeper.
He grips my thighs,then my ass, helping guide me up and down his shaft.
“You’re mine,”he whispers, panting. “This… this is our vow.”
I nod,breathless. “I want to feel you come inside me again.”
“You will.”
I pick up the pace.He thrusts up to meet me.
