Page 41 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

Chapter 13

Moerrven

“We’re camping,” Sky said, as if this were a decree from the Queen herself. “In a forest. Far from any village. Where no one can hear your screams.”

This should not have made my cock hard. I was a hundred and twenty-seven years old. I had standards and dignity.

“I didn’t mean that in a horror movie way. I meant screams of pleasure,” he added.

My cock got even more on board with the camping plan. “I thought you hated camping. There is a village four miles ahead. With an inn.”

Sky moaned. “And it has private rooms.”

“At least two. I have stayed in it before. There is a bunkroom too, but only for overflow.”

“So we’re risking being overflow?”

My lips twitched as I remembered Sky’s dismay at not being able to cuddle last night. One might even think he was beginning to grow attached to me. Not that I wanted that; I was committed to my solitary widower life.

Wasn’t I?

I cleared my throat. “The inn will have mattresses. Remember how much you like mattresses?”

“Doesn’t matter! We’re camping.” He pointed to a break in the treeline where a narrow path wound into a dense stand of oaks. “That looks perfect. Trees, privacy, and no snoring orcs.”

I guided Clover off the road and into the forest. The clearing we found was, I had to admit, suitable. The ground was level, sheltered on three sides by old oaks, with a small stream nearby for water. The canopy was thick enough to block the wind but open enough to let the last of the daylight in. It was a place I might have chosen myself for an overnight camp, though my reasons would have been practical rather than whatever Sky’s reasons were.

We made camp with what I can only describe as suspicious efficiency. Sky had Poppy settled in her habitat, the fire started, and the bedrolls laid out in a time short enough to suggest intense motivation. I tended to Clover, set up the cooking supplies, and by the time I turned around, Sky was already standing in the clearing with the parcel from Helda’s shop unwrapped at his feet.

Everything was there: the riding crop, the shorter crop, the leather cord, the paddle.

He had laid them out on the ground in a neat row, like surgical instruments. He was backlit by the fire, small and sharp-featured and utterly serious. And still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“We are outdoors. In public.”

“It’s a forest clearing that is completely private and half a mile from the nearest road. Besides, there’s a stream right there. If anyone comes by and asks, we’re bathing in that stream, like that hot guy we saw the other day.”

“It was barely even warm out. I don’t think he was hot, just dirty,” I said.

He crossed his arms. “Hot means sexy; stop being obtuse. You saw his ass. Now strip.”

“Someone could come along—”

“Moerrven, do you want to be fucked senseless or not? I’m starting to think not.”

Right at that moment, I discovered that I’m not the sort of man who leaves his clothes on when there’s an offer on the table to be fucked senseless. My shirt came off before another protest could form in my lust-addled mind. The evening air was cool against my skin, and every part of my body announced itself in a way it had not since I was young and uncertain. I stood there, half-undressed in a forest clearing, while a human who barely came up to my chest watched me with the calm authority of a person who knew what he wanted.

“Keep going,” Sky said, eyes roaming over my chest with obvious appreciation. “Show me that whole beautiful muscly troll body.”

I unlaced my trousers and pushed them down, stepping out of them. My cock was already hard, jutting forward, and I resisted the urge to cover myself. Standing naked in a clearing while Sky assessed me was a level of exposure I had not anticipated enjoying. And I was enjoying it.

I loved the soft gasp he let out when he saw my muscles flexing, loved the way his eyes roamed down to my cock with hungry appreciation.