3k words
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It was late when they broke camp, the soft moonlight bathing the clearing in a shades of white and blue, the gloom cast back by the orange glow of the fire. As he was tending to the flames, he noticed Mazkha was gazing off towards the south, so he asked her what she was looking at.
“I think I can see light,” she replied. “Can’t you?”
He walked over to join her, and before long he noticed it too. A very faint haze rose from the horizon, eclipsing the sky above the trees in a subtle shroud. “Are those lights from Marienburg?” she asked. “Brettonian cities aren’t nearly as bright in the dark.”
“We use gas-powered lights and candles in the Empire,” Roderick explained. “They provided far more illumination that open flames. But I think that is Antorpe’s lights over there, the village is much closer than the city.”
“How long did you say it’s been since you visited the city?” she asked.
“Oh, many years, but I remember it being a tremendous place. Over a hundred thousand people live within its walls. That’s nothing compared to Altdorf’s population, but it’s still a bustling place. I hope we make it to the capital city one day soon," he added. “The Throne city is like no other place in the world.”
“Once we kick Chaos’ arse back into the holes they came outta, you can give me the tour,” Mazkha replied, giving him a pat on the arm. “Assumin’ they’ll let an orc inside, but that’s neither here or there.”
“So then, what’s on the menu for tonight?” Roderick asked as they made their way back to the fire.
“Oh, bit of this and a bit of that. I’ll be too, if you play your cards right.”
Roderick glanced up at her with mild curiosity. “I assumed one of us would hunt something, like last time,” he said.
“Nah, huntin’ will take too long. I brought rations this time.”
They took their seats across the fire from one another, Mazkha moving away temporarily to retrieve one of her saddlebags, unwrapping paper parcel. He blinked when she revealed a drumstick of glazed meat the colour of honey, the portion almost as big as his entire head.
“What have you got there?” he asked, reaching for his supply of jerky.
“Gryphon leg,” Mazkha replied between mouthfuls. “Brettonia’s full of the buggers, and the knights pay a decent bounty for cullin’ them down. Taste great too, so it’s a win-win deal for the Warrgh.”
She lifted a little bottle from her bag, containing some dark liquid. She upended it, and some thick saucey substance oozed onto the meat, Mazkha’s eyes glazing as she took a hearty bite. Suddenly he was all too jealous, compared to the shrunken strip of dried meat that was his sole dinner these past few weeks.
Mazkha noticed, and she scooted round until she was sat beside him, tearing off a chunk of meat with her hand. “You’ll never fill up on that shite,” she said. “Take this.”
“My thanks,” he said, but she held the meat out of reach when he made to grab it.
“Trade you,” she chimed. “You got any of that salt layin’ around? I could use the seasonin’.”
He had a pouch of it on hand, and he trade her for the portion. Roderick had never tasted Gryphon meat before, but he was pleasantly surprised by its flavour which was comparable to chicken. It had a surprising sweet aftertaste, Mazkha explaining it had been dipped in honeyed sauce before being wrapped, and the added salt gave it a nice extra layer of flavour. He couldn’t imagine it to last for more than a few days, and would never suffice to fill an army on the march, but the change was almost a luxury in comparison.
“I noticed you brought your little ‘relic’ thing along,” Mazkha said, gesturing with the half-eaten drumstick towards his horse. “You said before it was always on your mind. How is it today?”
“It comes and goes,” he admitted. “I can’t help but think it has its own schedule. Some days it wakes, others it rests. Wilfred hinted at the fact it would have a will of its own, but only now have I come to appreciate how literal he was being.”
“Creepy,” Mazkha said. “But you seem to be handling it well enough.”
“Some days it doesn’t feel that way,” he replied. “I find myself wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to have never brought it out of that desert in the first place. It’s the price for me to return to the Empire, but is it truly worth it? Why would the Conclave risk such a evil weapon being brought into the homeland?”
“It doesn’t seem so evil to me,” Mazkha said, Roderick cocking an eyebrow at her. “Think about it. Without that, that git Bael would have cut me down if you hadn’t interceded. It saved my life. You saved my life. It might be doin’ a little evil whisperin’ here and there, but you’ve used it for a good cause up till now, right?”
“I suppose,” he conceded. “But it does more than just merely whispering to me, Mazkha. I truly cannot get my mind of it.”
“Maybe you just need to be distracted,” she suggested.
“How?”
“You been thinking about what I said the other night?” She smirked at him as he recalled the events of the night prior.
“You said I should sleep on it, if I recall.”
“Well, it’s been almost two days,, and I’ve been thinkin’ about it too, so…”
“I suspected you bringing me out here had an ulterior motive,” he chuckled.
“If I’m moving to quickly, tell me right now,” she replied, her expression as straight as an arrow. “I don’t want to force you to any conclusions. I won’t be my father.”
“I know, and you’re not forcing anything,” Roderick replied. “Yes, I have thought about it. Truth be told it’s been on my mind as much as that thing has. And I’ve come to a decision.”
“And that is?”
His answer was to lean forward, his button nose brushing her flat, bat-like nostrils. Mazkha’s eyes dilated, but she didn’t pull away, her lips gently parting as he moved closer. Her lips were softer than they looked, yielding to his mouth as they kissed, her warm breath washing over him. He reached up to cup her neck, his first movements exploratory, but that restraint quickly melted away as she pushed back, her muscular torso flexing against his.
He could still taste the oily meat on her lips, along with the tangy taste of her saliva, accentuated when her slippery tongue probed at his lips. He let it pry his mouth open, and her soft organ filled his mouth with flowing muscle. It was perhaps twice as wide as his own tongue, and far longer, his gag reflex setting off when she grazed his throat.
She pulled back with a soft moan, her yellow eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. “Sorry,” she said. “You’re a lot smaller to what I’m used to.”
“And you’re a lot bigger,” he replied.
“Yeah, there’s a lot more of me compared to a Skaven,” she chuckled. “Think you can handle a little more?”
“One way to find out…”
She smirked, leaning in for another kiss. This time his mouth yielded to hers, and she angled her head over him, gripping his hair with one of her hands. Her silky tongue danced with his, the organs reaching and probing and coiling, Roderick’s heart fluttering as she subjected him to her affections. Her lips were not unlike his, except for the thick tusks that poked from her lower jaw, and they couldn’t lock together because of their obstructions, and had to mash their mouths together to make it work, but there was something liberating about throwing aside all restraints and letting their passion roam free.
His hand wandered down from her neck, her shoulder flinching as he passed it. Iron-hard muscles flexed against his questing hand, his fingers lowering to her leather vest. He groped her chest through the fabric, Mazkha moaning into his throat appreciatively, her voice making his insides vibrate, her lung capacity far greater than his own that she could still maintain their kiss.
“Oh, that’s good,” he muttered into his open mouth. “Harder,” she insisted. He gripped her tighter, and even if her breast was far larger than any woman’s he’d ever seen, she trembled against him all the same.
She wrapped her arm around his neck, sliding her thigh against his waist as she straddled him, lifting his chin with a thumb as she deepened their kiss. When she pulled away, she pinched his lower lip between her teeth, stretching his lip as a strand of their saliva dripped down her cheek.
She held him in a stare, never blinking as she slowly lowered her head to his neck, planting a smooch on his throat. He gasped when her tusk nipped his skin, Mazkha giggling at him. Her warm tongue glanced at, lapping at the spot apologetically, Roderick squirming beneath her. She was so overbearing, so heavy, he didn’t’ think he could get her off even if he wanted to.
“You’ve gone all quiet on me, little knight,” she teased, moving up to pinch his earlobe between her teeth. Her voice sent vibrations down through his chest. “You’ve rejected me a hundred times, but a little kiss later, and now you got nothin’ to say, huh?”
“Nothing about you is little,” Roderick replied, reaching down to cup the slim curve of her hip. Below it was the shapely rear of her buttocks, Roderick shamelessly testing one in his palm, relishing in the way muscles like shaped iron tensed back through the thin leather of her pants.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of me to go around compared to you,” Mazkha laughed. “But that just means I’ll have to pay extra attention. Take this off,” she added, flicking his chestpiece. “Let’s see what I have to work with.”
Roderick reached for the cuffs on his gauntlets, loosening the straps so he could slide his arms free. He let them fall to the grass, then began on the pauldrons and breastplate. Armour was always a process to get in and out of alone, but Mazkha was more a hindrance than a help. Her hands were all over him, prying at the clamps and belts, eager to get him naked but not understanding how to do it.
“Wait, wait,” he said. “Have to take the this off first.” He unbuttoned the metal gorget from his neck, allowing the chestpiece to slide free. Beneath, he wore a plain tunic. Mazkha was fiddling with the buttons before he could act, splitting the garb open to reveal his hairy chest.
“Ain’t much different to an orc,” she murmured, eyeing his torso covetously. Roderick’s body was a weapon shaped by a hundred battles, his skin warped by many scars and burns and blemishes. Mazkha seemed to appreciate his build, running her green hands across his pectorals and toned stomach. “Ya like a really buff goblin,” she added, Roderick scoffing at her.
“You’re more comparable to a goblin than I, greenskin,” he replied.
She slid off his lap, reaching down for his belt next, and when he tried to help she smacked his hand away. It seemed she was taking the lead on this one, though he wasn’t sure how she’d go about it, removing metal armour was more complicated than leather.
He was surprised when she removed the greaves deftly, encouraging him to step out of his sabatons one leg at a time. “How did you know to do that?” he asked, the hose he wore beneath slowly exposing to the air the more metal she took off.
“I’ve been round humans before you came along,” she said. “I’ve watched them get out of tin suits before.”
“And have you been watching me get out of my armour?”
“No…”
He narrowed his eyes at her, Mazkha holding his stair. She quickly broke, Roderick chuckling along as her laugh became to infectious to resist. “Fine, fine,” she said. “I’ll admit to a cheeky look now and then, but what choice did ya leave me? I couldn’t touch, so I had to look.”
“You can touch all you want tonight,” he replied.
“Oh, I plan on doing all that and more…”
Now free of his wargear, he shimmied down his hose, until he wore only his briefs. Her affections had left him swelling, Mazkha clicking her tongue as she eyed the bulge down there. “maybe you ain’t so small after all,” she mused.
She loomed over him again, something about being barely clothes making him feel even smaller than usual compared to the orcess. She angled herself back in front of him, Roderick having to lean away to avoid being clocked by her breasts. Her knees were the size of cannonballs, and she planted them to either side of his legs, lowering herself into his lap. The log he sat on creaked under the strain, but she didn’t put all her weight on him, though there was still enough that he couldn’t hope to lift her off.
After several seconds of silence, Roderick struggling to keep his eyes off her bust, he glanced up at her, seeing her giving him an expectant expression. “Well?” she prompted. “Go on, little knight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I dunno how humans go about it, but orcs both need to be naked for this to go on. I undressed you, now you get to undress me. Tit for tat, eh?”
Roderick might not have watched her undress like she had for him, but her clothing wasn’t unfamiliar. Her vest was draped over her chest with a seam down the front held together by an array of buttons, Roderick reaching for the top pair and beginning to poke the first one out.
“Of course you’d go for the chest first,” Mazkha teased. “You like em’, don’t you? I get them from my mom. Biggest knockers in the Warrgh, they said. bet they’re nothing like your prissy human girls, are they?”
Her breasts were bigger than his helmet, and as the first button opened, they turned out to be bigger, squashed in by the vest, making them appear more pert and rounded than they really were. The second button went, then the third, her generous flesh spilling out in an enticing teardrop shape that sent Roderick’s excitement into overdrive. Mazkha’s skin was a deep, olive green colour, but the flesh on her chest grew more pale towards her cleavage, making them look softer than the rest of her.
It was an effort the more of her top he undid, the leather so wound tight it was a wonder the stitching didn’t burst whenever she moved. The leather bloomed apart until he reached the final button, exposing much of her chest but not her nipples, Roderick admiring the sight of her inner boobs for a moment. When he parted the last of her vest, Mazkha reached up, pulling the garb aside, teasing him as she pushed out her bust. Twin globes of pale-green flesh bounced against her torso, wobbling like jelly for a moment as they came to rest. Her nipples were black buds standing out against the green flesh, each with the surface area of his thumb.
Mazkha cooed as he reached up his hands, mauling the orbs into his hands. The flesh yielded wonderfully to his palms, her smooth skin spilling between and around his digits like wet clay.
“C’mon, you barely tickling me,” Mazkha said. He groped her harder, and she shuddered appreciatively. “That’s it,” she sighed, rewarding his efforts with a slow gyration of her hips. His crotch was in contact with hers, all but two layers of cloth keeping him from the treasure between her legs. She pushed the downward curve of her mound into his lap, tilting her hips from side to side, Roderick groaning as he felt her soft flesh mould around him.
“You alright down there?” she asked. At this orientation, his head was just level with her shoulders, the orc towering him. “What was that noise just then?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“No, I definitely heard you mewl just then. You like it when I do this?” She wiggled her hips, plunging more of her soft inner thighs into his lap.
Perhaps he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Mazkha was twice his size and sculpted from a lifetime of tribal warfare, she was more than a match for him. He had to find some way to get back at her, he was tired of her constant teasing.
He came forward, plunging his face into her chest, breathing deep of her thick scent. She smelled of exertion, with a hint of musky sweetness. He sought out one of her dark nipples, taking it into his mouth. He knew his dull teeth couldn’t compare to the tusks of an orc, so he chewed down with all his strength, Mazkha flinching in reaction.
“Oh, yes!” she moaned, reaching down to cup a hand into his hair. She arched her spine in encouragement, pushing her cleavage out in invitation. “Like that, a little slower… yes… oh, that’s a good boy. Keep doin’ that…”
When he peeled back for air, he saw he’d left little marks where he’d clamped down on her, but Mazkha was far from harmed. He gave it an apologetic peck, then moved to her other breast, lapping at her areola with both tongue and teeth.