She wondered if she'd been lucky, not really fitting in growing up. None of her adolescent peers would look to her today and expect her to be anything other than shy, chubby, bumbling Lurielle. She didn't have the weight oftheirexpectations to live up to, other than the expectations every elf had, and she had fled the expectations of her family. Khash was handsome and smart and seemed to have the whole world in his hands, but he'd not done exactly what was expected of him by his community, and even though it had been years since he left, they all seemed to treat the wound as fresh. She was glad they'd come, glad she'd gotten to see a slightly less perfect version of the home he had described her so many times, glad that she would be leaving with a bit of insight on his family's particular dynamic, but she was mostly glad that the weekend was almost over. She still didn't like parties, and more than anything, she wanted to protect him from the passive-aggressive disappointment that seemed to color his interactions with everyone from his clan.
Everyone, that was, except for the elders. "What do you mean, making his case?" She watched as several of the old orcs threw their heads back in laughter at whatever it was he said. Whatever the case he was making, she knew him well enough to know it would come with a healthy side of conversation. She disliked small talk, but small talk was Khash's favorite sport, and he loved nothing better than shooting the breeze with a willing opponent.
"Any oath sworn before the fire needs to be approved by the elders first. There's no walkin' back on it, once it's done."
Lurielle shivered. She wasn't sure what he was asking them, what oath he was contemplating making before the flames of his clan, but she had an idea. Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought, understanding the meaning immediately, for it could mean nothing else. She knew her friends probably thought they were moving too fast, but there was no stopping the trajectory of their relationship, she thought. Them being together seemed to be an indisputable certainty, from the moment she had said yes that night on the sidewalk, that she did, in fact, want to see him again.Life in the real world.
Now they were pulling up this dark, dirt road, parking before an equally black cabin. She couldn't help but think it looked a bit derelict, illuminated in the headlights of the rental truck, and she wasn't sure if this was actually an improvement over spending another night at his sister's house. After all, she liked his eldest sister and her house was comfortable, if not a bit outsized for her. Khash had been insistent. He wanted to spend the night on their own, out from everyone's thumb, as he'd said. She'd refrained from pointing out that they would be flying home the following afternoon, where he was as far away from any thumb belonging to his clan as he could be.
"Bluebell, it's not healthy for a man to let the plumbing get backed up this long. A bad humor, I think that's what they called it in the dark ages. And the cure was draining it."
"The cure was draining your blood!" she exclaimed, laughing in outrage, "with leeches, not a blow job!"
"They obviously had the translation wrong, but they had the spirit." His smile was wolfish as he leaned forward, nipping at her lips. "You sit tight, let me make sure I don't have to chase a bear out of our bed."
The cabin belonged to him and his brothers, part of their inheritance from his beloved grandfather. Deep in the woods, set on a glimmering lake, she thought it would be beautiful in the daytime. As it was, she tucked her knees up a little tighter as he left her alone in the truck, surrounded by the black woods. There could be anything out there, she thought.Maybe even a Bigfoot.Rationally, she knew there was no such thing, but there were always people who claimed to have seen one while camping deep in the forest range off the Applethorpe Wood. Fortunately, he came back to the truck just a few moments later, no bear in tow, before she had a chance to be molested by anything lurking in the dark trees.
"Good news, our bed is empty. We've got some work to do in it, so let's get a move on there. This bad humor isn't going to drain itself."
The cabin clearly didn't have electricity, but he had lit two oil-burning lanterns, and their flickering flames left shadows across the bedroom as he carried her through the front door, past the small sitting area, and into the single bedroom. She couldn't see any of the amenities the room might've possessed, other than the orc-sized bed in the center of it, which was his only aim.
"It's been a very long day," she pointed out, scratching her nails down his chest. "You had to beonfor an awfully long time. Aren't you tired? Because I'm fucking exhausted."
"Darlin', you have no idea. I want to sleep for a month. I hope you packed a book to read on the plane tomorrow, because I'm not going to be a conversationalist. I packed my spa mask and my neck massager, your only job on the flight is to make sure I don't snore so loudly it grounds the plane." She laughed against his chest as he tugged on the hem of her dress, huffing when he realized it needed to be unzipped before he could pull it over her head, groaning to find her shapewear beneath. He’d become adept at stripping her from the binding tube, gripping the bottom hem and pulling it straight up her body and over her head. "They all loved you, Lurielle."
It was wintertime, and even though they were in the deep South, the night still had a sharp chill in the air, and she shivered, laughing against his chest at his words. "I'm pretty sure that's not entirely true, but I love you for lying about it." His mouth found hers, despite the darkness, hungry and insistent. "You sure you don't want to just go to bed?"
"Bluebell, that's all I want to do. But watching you all night long in your frilly little dress, making small talk and smilin' like it's your favorite thing on earth was too much. You've got my balls aching. At one point, you were talking to one of the elders and you laughed that little cupcake giggle, and I thought I was going to make a mess in my pants, right there in front of everybody. And it would've been worth it."
"Just watching me almost made you cum in your pants? You're acting like you're on a seven-year dry spell and not three days."
"Three days have felt like thirty, and you're still doing an awful lot of talking for someone who doesn't like socializing. Are you going to let this squirrel bury his nut, or are you going to stand there jabberin' all night?"
She threw up her hands, her whole body shaking in laughter. "Here we go again! In two seconds you're going to be calling him a dragon again. You're the one who still has your pants on. What about you come over here, and get on the bed, and stop shooting orders. Let's get those pants off before you make a mess and have to drive home in it."
She made quick work of his clothes until he was there before her on the bed, his cock already straining and heavy, swollen with arousal. She shook out her chiffon dress, the snug inner lining helping to hold all of her wobbly bits in place, laying it over the back of the single chair in the room, finding his trousers and doing the same. Removing his leather belt from the straps, she had a wicked idea. It was a relief to unclasp the back of her dressy bra, the scalloped straps having dug into her shoulders as the night wore on, and she sighed when her heavy breasts swung free, nipples tightening in the cold air. She wouldn't be cold for long, she knew, for his molten body heat would be more than enough to warm her throughout the night. But for now, the effect of the cold air worked in favor of her plan.
"I think I want to have you up on your knees first. You let me get stuck talking to all your old girlfriends,andyou stole my cake."
"Bluebell . . ." His voice was lost in the crack of the belt as she snapped leather back on itself. She had never used anything other than her little leather crop at home, and experimenting with a new toy in a pitch-black cabin with no electricity or first aid amenities was probably not the best idea, she would likely admit come morning, but just then she didn't quite care. "You better get on your knees for me so I can put a lil' love bruise on that big ole’ biscuit."
The first crack of the leather against him made him jolt, and she thrilled in excitement. She wasn't smacking him hard enough to actually bruise his skin, she wasn't sure if she was even smacking him hard for it to even sting, but the fantasy that she was doing so was enough. The flickering light from the lantern cast the full globes of his in a perfect halo. She pulled his ankles apart, forcing him to spread his knees, the shadow of his heavy scrotum swinging beneath. One crack, two cracks against his skin. On the third, he grunted, as she used a tiny bit more force. On the fifth, he groaned, as the leather caught against his testicles. That was the circuit she kept up for several cycles more — a sharp slap against each cheek of his big biscuits, landing the belt on his balls on the fifth. His hips had begun to thrust against nothing at all, if he were rutting into thin air, and she knew he wasn't going to last long once she was beneath him. He probably wouldn't have lasted long even before she started this little game, but now there was no question.
Finally, she tossed the belt onto the back of the chair with the rest of their clothes, running her hands over each full cheek, cupping his sac gently, and rolling. "You ready to let loose, baby? We've got to help this Dragon drain his bad humors so that a squirrel can bury his nut, or something like that." She cackled in laughter when he snatched her around the waist, swinging her onto the bed with a bounce.
"Lurielle, you and your big ole' panties are going to drive a man to the brink. Bring that sweet pussy over here and let me take a taste before I plug her up."
The first stroke of his hot tongue happened over the mesh of her full-coverage panties, zeroing in on her clit through the fabric. He lapped against her, the wetness from his mouth seeping into the fabric, joining the slick moisture she was producing until the front was a sloppy, soggy mess. It would've been easy for him to pull them aside to suck her properly, but instead, he doubled down, stretching her legs open and pushing her knees back to the mattress, tilting her pelvis up to his mouth as he sucked on her clit through the rough mesh.
"I thought you wanted to take a taste," she panted, wanting to feel his tongue sliding over her with the suction of his lips directly on her skin.
"Oh, I see the way it is. Teasing is fine when you're the one doing it."
He kept up the onslaught through the mesh for several minutes more, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband and yanking the not insignificantly sized bit of fabric down her hips, pitching them over his shoulder as he attacked her cunt unfettered.
"I want this sweet little honeypot to spill all over my mouth, you understand, Bluebell? Then she's gonna lay back and let me feed her my cock. How does that sound?"
"She's starving," she wheezed, her body arching every time he sucked on her clit in just the right way. "She wants you to shut up and let your tongue do its job so she can eat."
