The petite goblin had giggled at their reflection, a completely absurd sight to anyone who might have been watching, no doubt. "Yeah, but you already bagged that big, gorgeous side of beef. Who cares about a little extra jiggle when you havethatat home?!"
Her face had flushed, unbecoming splotches of pink coloring her ivory cheeks. "Of course," she’d bit out, unable to stop herself, fire raging through her veins. It wasn’t the first time this particular group of friends had made such comments, and she felt at war with herself over the way they made her feel — they were right, after all. Khash loved every inch of her, from the dimples in her thighs and the rounded pooch of her stomach to the aforementioned arm jiggle. It was a sentiment she’d heard on more than one occasion at that point.Mr. Wonderful. Mr. Perfect. Mr. Gorgeous.She agreed with her friends, of course — her boyfriendwaswonderful and gorgeous, even though he was far from perfect ... but he hadn’t changed the way she saw herself, hadn’t suddenly silenced the voices in her head she'd lived with for years.Shewas working hard to do that on her own, and itwashard work. The assumption that she’d been somehow cured of her negative thoughts overnight, simply by dint of Khash’s presence rankled.What does that make you? The fat girl lucky enough to be with him?"After all, everyone knows the only path to body acceptance is to find a dick to ride, right?"
The goblin had sputtered and she'd turned on her heel, regretting her words instantly, even if she didn't really. She loved Khash, loved their life, loved theirlove. . . but she loved her house and her job and her dog and her freedom, things she'd achieved on her own which were somehow negated now that she had a partner.
"Bluebell," he murmured against her temple, once her tears had slowed to a snuffle. "Are you gonna tell me what’s got you so tied up or?"
"What if they don't like me?" She blurted in a hoarse whisper, an echo of the question she asked in her therapist's office.
Above her, Khash sighed heavily. "Darlin' —"
"You can't pretend that it might not happen. They’re your family, and you love them, but you know how orcs are. I know how elves are. What's going to happen when they tell you they don't think I'm good for you? What could happen if they don't like me?"
For a weighted moment he said nothing, just nuzzled her temple with the tip of his nose before gripping her chin and tilting her face up to gently kiss her lips. "Lurielle, they barely like me. Why do you think it would make a bit of difference?"
She gaped as he readjusted her across his lap, both dogs now sitting at their feet. She had noticed the odd dynamic between Khash and his family, picked up on during their biweekly video calls. He was the golden boy and black sheep both, simultaneously doted on by his mother and treated to the odd derisive comments from one of his older sisters; looked up to by both of his brothers, and left out of the camaraderie they shared because of his absence. It was an odd juxtaposition of big expectations and biting disapproval when those expectations were met, at least to her outsider's eyes. He was one of two of his many siblings to have moved away from the clan, he had told her, the other being the youngest, who barely counted, as she was the baby. She had noticed it, noticed it practically from the first week she'd been included on the calls, but her noticing it and Khash voicing it were two very different things.
He sighed heavily again. "They have the party planned for Saturday. We're flying in late Thursday afternoon. That'll give you a chance to get to know mama and the girls before the big shindig, but I promise you it won't be that bad. It might even be easier, with that many people around. It's going to be loud and rowdy, I'll warn your delicate little cupcake sensibilities now. There's going to be music and drinking, and a big ole' fire. You won't have to memorize everyone's name, you probably won't even get a chance to talk to everyone. No one is going to be there to judge you, Lurielle. And it doesn't matter what any a'one of them thinks. Because at the end of the weekend I'm still getting on a plane and flying home with you, away from them, and with or without you darlin', they won't let me forget it. We all have choices to make in life, and I'm happy with the ones I've made. They led me to you."
Tears flooded her eyes anew as she gripped his shirtfront, pulling a fistful of the fabric until he lowered his face to hers, allowing her to sink her fingers into his thick black hair. His kiss was hard, hard enough to leave her lips swollen, the taste of his mouth mingled with her tears. She felt the drag of his thick tusks against the sides of her face, framing her mouth; his blunt teeth nipping at her lower lip and scraping down her jaw. Sucking kisses he placed down the column in her throat had her arching beneath him, tears forgotten, leaving only one thought in her head –more.
Her gasp when he surged to his feet, her still aloft in his arms, was swallowed again by his mouth. The bed frame she had moved in with had been sold at a community swap meet, traded for an orc-sized bed, big enough to accommodate the orcinher bed. The knit dress she'd worn to work that day was easy to lift and drag up over her arms and head, leaving her in her full-coverage panties and bra. Functional and comfortable and completely unsexy, but he'd never seemed to mind. He dragged her giant panties down her hips, just as easily as he might have done to a strappy little thong. She pushed the T-shirt he wore up his body, her short manicure scraping against his stomach until he assisted, gripping the back hem of the shirt and hauling it over his head in one fluid motion. She'd not appreciated the dark sweatpants he'd worn when she'd come in, and it seemed a waste. His erection pushed out the cotton material, tenting it obscenely, and she gripped his fabric-covered cock, giving it a few pumps before hooking her thumbs in the waistband and yanking the pants down his body.
This didn't solve her problems, didn't quell the panic she felt over the upcoming visit, nor did it reconcile the frustration she felt over the assumption that she was somehow worth more to the world now that she was coupled . . . but it quieted her mind, and that was good enough for now.
She pushed him down onto the bed once he'd deftly unhooked her bra, tossing it in the direction of her dress, climbing up his body like a tree. She was so much smaller than him, and it madeeverythingcomplicated — except this. Straddling his hips was still like climbing onto a centaur's back, but once she was astride him, her body's low center of gravity worked in her favor, her thighs tightening around him as she fed his cock into her with a backward hand.
"It's going to be fine, darlin'." She dragged her nails through the dark hair on his chest, following the shadowed trail over his abdomen, past his naval, bracing herself against him as she lowered, inch-by-inch, sliding down his rigid girth like she was visiting the Cambric Creek fire station.
She loved this position, she'd discovered in the course of the past half-year. She loved all of the others they'd tried as well, of course; nothing quite compared to his weight above her, covering her like a great shadow, or the way he braced over her as she draped herself over a cushioned platform designed for this exact use, pumping into her from behind. She loved sitting astride his giant head, gingerly lowering herself on his tusks, and of course, she loved being on her knees before him with his legs spread wide, pushing into him with her own unsteady rhythm . . . She loved all of those, but none quite compared to this — she never felt quite as vulnerable as she did splayed across his hips like this, her entire perfectly imperfect body on display for his hooded eyes. He was the one who made it as enjoyable as it was, of course. His hands, huge and gentle, would grip her hips, able to span them with ease, making her feel dainty for the first time in her life. The drag of him within her made her toes curl at his sides, and she leaned forward until she was able to find just the right angle, every roll of her hips sending a shot of lightning up her back. His hands would slide up her sides, cupping her heavy breasts reverently, as if they were objects of titillation and desire and not another reason she didn't fit into any chic Elvish fashions. His thumbs would roll over the pink of her nipples, catching them between his knuckles as he kneaded the full globes, groaning as he did so. He would cup the side of her face, tracing her lips with his thumb until they parted for him, and she would suck on the broad green pad of his digit, biting down on the meaty center until his breath hitched, his dark eyes locked on hers with a ravenous expression. Finally, their hands would join as she bounced against him, their fingers knitted together as she picked up speed, the rumble coming from his chest just beyond the finish line as she chased her peak, his hands squeezing hers tightly as she fell apart atop him.
Lurielle dropped forward against his chest, her breath coming out in sharp pants, her heartbeat thundering like a runaway horse. One of his hands had dropped to her hip, holding her in place, as the other cradled the back of her head, his thick fingers pushing through the golden highlights in her hair. She was barely able to reach his mouth from this position, the great difference in their size one of many hundreds of tiny differences she counted over the last seven months, but it wasn't one she was willing to let stand in her way just then. She wriggled against his body awkwardly until she was able to grip his chin, plunging a hand into his thick dark hair, begging his lips to chase away the anxiety of the crowded her heart.
"Lurielle, it's going to be okay," he repeated, sucking on her lip as she breathed into him, attempting to steal some of his Orcish bravery. "We can talk about their game plan, if you want, Bluebell. You want me to give you a rundown with a member of my family with notes for you to study? If that'll make you feel better, we’ll do it tonight. You want a list of the names of the clan elders so you can address them, if that'll make you feel more confident? I'll make sure you know them. But right now darlin', you got me all hot and bothered, and you're making that face like you're fixin' to start crying again. So I'm going to need to ask you,veryrespectfully, to put your tears away for another few minutes, and let me drain this dragon. You know I love all of your big feelings and how much hard work you've been doing on yourself, and I want to give any topic you want to talk about my utmost attention, but right now all I can think of is filling you up. So why don’t you slide off and get on your knees, and let me remind you why it doesn't make a deadly bit of difference what anyone else thinks of us."
She had begun to laugh before he finished his dramatic monologue about the needs of his cock, but she did as he asked, the backward drag of him sliding out of her making her eyes cross. "A list with notes is exactly what I want," she huffed, settling her knees against the padded rocker he slapped down to the mattress.
The curved cushion could have been mistaken for a piece of gym equipment, the only reason why it had wound up moving from its place at the front of her closet to its new home beside one of the bedside tables, always out, easily accessible. Much like her other toy investments, she had done her research online first. It was almost comical, the industry that existed to make multi-species couplings a comfortable possibility. She had been poised to purchase the device online, like her other earlier purchases, but then in her email, a coupon had appeared. It was a locally owned store catering to adult pleasures, and if there was one thing she had learned about her boyfriend over the last half a year, it was that he was extravagant nearly to the point of excess, but he loved a good deal. A petite goblin ran the shop, her friendly and gregarious nature instantly putting Lurielle at ease when she'd hesitantly entered, the bell above the door nearly being enough to send her scampering like a mouse. The goblin had flame-colored hair and trendy, black-rimmed glasses resting on her button nose, and she clearly knew the inventory in the shop inside and out.
"An orc, huh? I know exactly what you want. The liberation rocker. It's super sturdy, and it's better than one of the pillows. You can use it like one of the pillows, which is why it's so versatile, but the rocker side is really where it's at. That way you can move with him instead of just being rammed into, you know?"
She was positive she had been the same color as a plump cherry tomato by the time she'd left the shop, but she knew she would be back. She wasn't sure how her boyfriend managed to put on the veneer of a straight-laced suburbanite when he had so many kinks. Before she'd purchased the strap-on, a leather crop had been added to one of her dresser drawers, and she had become very adept at slapping the flat leather end against the table like-curve of his ass. The goblin was far more knowledgeable and helpful than anything she discovered in her cautious, VPN-protected online bumblings, and if they had regular promos, she knew Khash would not be able to resist.
"The fact that a list with notes was even an option and you've been holding out on me actually makes me really angry," she grumbled leaning forward against the cushioned slope, wrapping her arms around it. "Frankly, I think you should have been putting together a dossier for me two months ago. Names, ages, backgrounds, how you’re related to them, including photos. I wouldn’t be stressed at all if you had actually done the prep work necessary."
"Bluebell, I cannot emphasize enough how much I don't care to be having this particular conversation at this precise moment in time. I've got one thing on my mind, and paper clipping Polaroids onto detailed descriptions of every single one of my childhood friends is not it."
Her laughter cut off on a gasp when she felt his fat head sliding against her slick folds from behind. It was preposterous how big he was, how thick and long his manhood hung, even in its completely softened state.
"I'm still mad at you," she insisted, twisting her hips back and forth. "Maybe I should only let you put the tip in. What do you think of that?" She pushed back slightly, his head pushing into her, her bravado nearly failing her at the familiar intrusion. She sucked in a sharp breath as she allowed him to penetrate her slightly further, just far enough that her body was able to securely hold his thick cockhead, tightening her muscles around him. She rocked forward on her cushion, letting him slip out, smiling as he growled in frustration. Twice more she took him in that way, just his head, putting her gym work to use in the way she squeezed her pelvic muscles, holding him there for minutes before letting him slide out again.
"Bluebell, you're aiming to have me on my knees. That what you want, darlin'? You want to have me beggin' to bury my cock in you? Well, this is me begging." He'd taken himself in hand, sliding his drooling head up and down her cleft, thrusting forward and letting his thick shaft push through the lips of her sex, dragging against her clit. "This is me begging you to let me empty my balls and pump you full until you're dripping. The longer you keep this dragon snapping, the longer it's going to take to put together your dossier."
She was shaking in laughter by the time he pushed into her slowly, groaning until he'd slid in balls-deep, hilting himself fully within her. "It doesn't matter what we argue about Bluebell, if this is the way we make up, I'll start planning parties for you every weekend."
When he began to pump into her, she was reminded of the goblin girl's words. She rocked forward on every thrust, the backward tip causing a friction she wouldn't have received without the upholstered device. He had planted his feet wide, putting every ounce of his muscle and power into his hips, rutting into her like a freight train, groaning like he had a starring role on one of the multi-species porn sites. Her g-spot was trapped against the thick girth of his shaft, and her clit received a steady bump against the cannily designed rocker, and as she hurled towards her second orgasm of the night, Lurielle thought she might just bewillingto let him plan a weekly party if this was the way he would fuck her.
When he erupted into her, she felt the pressure of his cock going off like a fire hose, flooding her womb. She understood why orcs had such big families as he grunted, his hips still thrusting erratically as he came. Lurielle imagined her womb expanding like a water balloon, swollen with what felt like a gallon of his release, certain she could push down on her belly and feel it sloshing within her. He'd pressed himself flush to her, an indication he was almost done, like a tiny alarm had gone off and the little workers who lived inside his heavy testicles had slammed the emergency evacuate button. He grunted again, hips continuing to jerk, draining every drop he had. Their hands had come together again, she realized — fingers knitted, her pinky over his, as if she were the one holdinghimin place — as ifshewere the strong one in their relationship.
