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Every year, on the eve of the winter solstice, the orcs invaded the village.
Barely a day’s trip, it was no effort for the strong, conquering beings to overtake such a small elf village as theirs. But this was no surprise attack, not by any means. No, this was planned, ceremonial, an offering of peace between rival species to protect what bow and arrow could not.
After centuries of fighting and tremendous loss, mostly on the elven front, the elders of the elven village and the great orc king had come to a compromise. No more elven lives would be lost, no more homes burned, no more goods stolen, but only under one condition.
On the eve of the winter solstice, all orc soldiers were permitted to raid the village and take any virgin elf of their choosing that had turned 18 that year to do as they please, so long as no serious harm came to the young elf. Many people thought it was brutish and crass, an unjust solution to subject the future of their kind to. Though most elders saw the mingling of species as unnatural and disgraceful, it was a small price to pay in comparison to all they had lost over the past few hundred years.
And this year, Rhys had turned 18.
Most of his friends were terrified of the Pilfering, as it had been so fittingly named, and all Rhys had heard all year was the whining complaints of the ungrateful. Fear, disgust, anger, dread were the whisperings of his peers, some even brought to tears over their fate, and as the time drew near, the complaints only escalated. But Rhys?
Rhys was excited.
Growing up, Rhys knew of the Pilfering just as any young elf did. It was impossible to ignore, the loud footsteps of orcs trudging through the village, breaking in doors and dragging elves kicking and screaming from their homes. But Rhys was never scared, more intrigued than anything. He’d spend those nights peering out of his bedroom window, trying to catch glimpses of these so-called beasts whenever he could.
The first words Rhys remembers associating with the orcs were things like big and strong, but as Rhys grew older, so did his vocabulary, as well as his perception.
Muscular, handsome, and different had started to fill Rhys’ mind as he watched each year, counting down the days until he might be snatched from his bed for the night. Before Rhys even knew the implication of what being taken meant he knew that’s what he wanted. Big, strong arms of a man twice his size whisking him away for a mysterious evening together.
Once Rhys knew what it all really meant, he only wanted it more.
The elven kind had never interested him once things like attraction and romance had filled his developing mind. They were too weak and soft, too much like him. Rhys craved hard flesh and rough hands, someone who could hold him down and give him no room for mercy. The desire burned in his veins like an eternal flame, left him writhing in bed at night in hopes that one day he’d be chosen.
And now, with the winter solstice approaching, Rhys could hardly contain his excitement.
Rhys knew there was a chance he wouldn’t get picked and just the thought made him ache, a needy heat flooding through his body. He knew it was just luck, that it all depended on whether or not an orc decided to come banging on his door, but this was his only chance to get what he wanted. Rhys didn’t know what he’d do if it slipped through his fingers.
Rhys opened his eyes from where he’d been trying to sleep for what felt like hours now, peering up towards the window he’d gazed out of so many years before. He couldn’t see anything from where he lie on his bed, eyes restlessly staring off into the darkness of night as he tried to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. When were they coming?
Despite the fact that Rhys had already come on his fingers once that night, moaning and rutting into the soft rabbit fur of his winter bedding, he still felt like he could burst with excitement. If anything, he almost felt even hornier, his virgin hole quivering to be stretched by something with much more girth than his own fingers.
With a whine, Rhys shuffled up onto his knees on his bed, fur blanket slipping from his shoulders to pool around his waist as he peered out the warped glass of his window. He felt like a kid again, watching, waiting…
Bang!
Rhys nearly jumped out of his skin, heart in his throat as he quickly shuffled back down under the safety of his blankets, bringing the pelt up over his head. He wasn’t even sure if the sound came from his house, but now, with the weight of what was happening looming over him, Rhys was scared. He trembled under the blankets, distant shouts and heavy footsteps echoing through the space around him. It was finally happening.
Though fear quaked through him, arousal was right alongside it, mixing together in a rush of adrenaline that had him panting into the soft fur tickling his cheek. Rhys had never felt anything like this before, the confusing mix of emotions, of primal instincts lighting a fire within him he didn’t know possible. It seemed unimaginable now, to think he might not be chosen, and even just the idea had Rhys shuddering with disappointment.
Eyes squeezed shut tight where he pressed his face into his pillow, Rhys tried to get some sort of control over what he was feeling, squirming restlessly under the white wolf pelt draped over his back. He was getting himself worked up, worrying himself with questions only time could give the answer to. Would he be chosen? How long would it take? What if he didn’t—
The crackling sound of wood splintering echoed through the entire house, undoubtedly from the front door. Rhys couldn’t tell if it was fear or arousal that licked down his spine like a rolling hot coal, but the guilt that followed when he heard his mother’s screams was telling enough. He knew his parents didn’t want him to be taken like this, didn’t want him soiled by some brute. Rhys had debated telling them the truth about his desires, wondered if it would give them some peace of mind to at least know that he was okay with it, but the way they spoke about orcs, about the Pilfering… Rhys had decided to keep it to himself.
“Stay away from my son!” Came his mother’s shrill voice, their house nearly shaking under the heavy footsteps that neared Rhys’ bedroom door.
Rhys shivered from head to toe, anticipation burning through him like a forest fire at the roots of an old oak tree. Thankfully, Rhys didn’t have to wait long, the hinges of his door creaking with the violent effort that was given to open it. Somewhere in the house, Rhys could distantly hear his mother wailing in his father’s arms, distraught that her beautiful son was to be ruined by such a monster.
Even just those words on the cusp of his mind had Rhys squirming again, stiffening cock filling out just that much more where it was squished between the bed and his belly. Part of Rhys wanted to peek out from where he was hiding under the covers, wanted to see the looming soldier that had picked him for the night as he neared, but he stayed quiet and still.
Rhys could hear the grunting breaths of the beast in his room, could smell the musky tang of a hard working man as he grew near. All of it was intoxicating, filling his senses with a dizzying cloud of lust.
It wasn’t until a large, heavy hand came down on his hip that Rhys made a sound, lips parting in a startled gasp at the way just one hand nearly fit around his entire waist. Yes, this was what he’d been craving.
A deep, rumbling growl was the only warning he was given before the wolf pelt was tossed from his body in one quick motion, exposing him to the chill of the wintery air. Rhys shivered, the silky material of his bed robes doing little to keep him warm without a fire nearby. He didn’t have to worry about that for long, though, not when he’d have an orc to keep him warm through the night.
With too much hesitance, Rhys slowly turned his head away from his pillow to catch a glimpse of his soon-to-be captor, only to be snatched up by the waist again and thrown over a hulking shoulder. Rhys yelped in surprise as pale fingers scrambled to gain purchase on hard, dark skin. Rhys stared in amazement at the contrast, his slender hands looking infinitely smaller against the orc’s broad, exposed back where he gripped at rippling muscle.
Rhys had to squeeze his eyes shut as the whole world spun around him, the orc turning on his heel to leave where he came from. A firm hand held Rhys by the ass as the orc made his exit, and Rhys decided it was best to keep his eyes closed as they left his parents behind, mother fading into garbled pleas in the distance.
By that point, Rhys wasn’t sure what to expect. Most of those taken for the Pilfering didn’t tell stories of what happened or where they were taken, and out of respect, no one dare ask. How long would he have to wait? Were they going back to the orc village, a whole day’s journey away? Surely not, weren’t the offerings always back by morning? He couldn’t recall…
From this angle, dangling with his head towards the ground, it was hard for Rhys to see much at all. He tried to lift his head as best he could but was only met with barely more than an ankle-high view of the world. He tried to wiggle in his orc’s grasp so he could get a better look but was only met with a tighter grip keeping him still, leaving Rhys to flop uselessly against the broad shoulder supporting him.
After a few moments of being carried in silence, Rhys couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to know, he’d already waited long enough, and maybe it was all the blood rushing to his head that gave him the courage to speak but before Rhys could stop himself he was opening his mouth, nimble fingers tracing the outline of a tight back muscle.
“W-where are we going?” Rhys murmured, voice trembling like a leaf.
A grunt, as if the orc was trying to decide whether to answer, and then, “Camp.” It was all the answer being offered.
Rhys waited a few more moments, gnawing on his bottom lip nervously. “How long—“
“Soon.”
Rhys pursed his lips together in a pout and tried not to think about how subjective that answer was. Sensing he wasn’t going to get any real answers, Rhys kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trek, albeit fidgeting restlessly on the shoulder of his giant along the way (and perhaps to feel the weight of that massive hand pressing into him, keeping him compliant).
To the orc’s credit, ‘soon’ was an appropriate representation of what to expect, as it was only a few more minutes of walking before they reached the edges of the orc camp. Rhys couldn’t see much in his current state, still mostly upside down and facing the wrong direction, but he could hear.
Mostly orcs, speaking in their gruff voices, their lack of education evident in their broken language. The tips of Rhys’ pointed ears twitched as he tried to listen to half-formed sentences and sad excuses for complete thoughts. It was no wonder his people thought so little of them, where they over compensated in strength and power they so clearly lacked in cognitive thought and basic knowledge. Rhys wondered if all their people were like this, or perhaps just the soldiers, whose lives were dedicated to battle rather than edification.
But amongst the casual chatter of orcs Rhys could also hear elves, beyond the thin shroud of tent after tent after tent. Not all were occupied, at least not yet with the night so young. It was curious, to hear the different sounds; some of pleasure, so he wasn’t the only one, others of anguish. With the time so near, evidence before him, Rhys could feel himself stirring again, that familiar warmth in his gut returning.
The smell of smoke and fire surrounded him, sending a shiver through his body as if the smell reminded him of the bitter cold surrounding them. Rhys clung to the orc still carrying him, seeking the seemingly never-ending heat that radiated off of the large body below him despite the severe lack of clothes the other was wearing. It seemed ridiculous that even a man of his stature could be so unaffected by the cold, chest bare to the frigid temperatures while Rhys shook like a leaf in his grasp.
Reprieve was just around the corner, their journey finally coming to an end as the orc stopped at one of the tents, parting the flaps so he could step inside. The warmth was immediate, seeping into Rhys’ flesh with a contented sigh as he slowly began to thaw. Within moments, Rhys was thrown down onto a bed of what appeared to be snow leopard pelts, the soft, spotted fur feeling like heaven under his cold-stiff body. Briefly, Rhys marveled at the skill it must have taken to brave the mountains for such fine bedding, his astonishment and infatuation with these powerful creatures only growing.
With the orc before him, standing at the edge of the bed, Rhys could finally get a good look at him, eyes eagerly wandering every inch of dark, rough skin. It reminded him of seaweed from the lagoon, deep brown with a touch of green, something from a world much different than his own. The beast was painted in scars, jagged lines of war decorating his skin in various places, lines that Rhys wanted to trace with his hands, his tongue.
Rhys knew that orcs were not inherently beautiful, certainly not like elves were, but this one… he wasn’t beautiful, per se, but certainly handsome in a way Rhys hadn’t been expecting, even with the large, arcing scar that stretched across his features. His jaw was angular, less wide than what Rhys considered to be ‘typical’, although his knowledge of orcs was limited to elven teachings and what he’d seen out of his bedroom window once a year. His brow, though still broad in comparison to Rhys’ own, was not the flat plane of the average orc, and the two teeth that curved out from his bottom lip were half the size of the monstrous, tusk-like depictions in his readings.
Various piercings dangled from his ears, which were pointed similarly to that of an elf. His left ear was decorated with four silver hoops that reached about halfway up the outer cartilage, and the right only had one, arrowhead-like charm dangling from a long chain in the lobe of his ear. Necklaces dangled about his chest made of crude, black twine and pieces of what appeared to be carved bone woven into the design.
Most striking of all, though, was his eyes. One blue as the lagoon, the other green as a fairy mound. Rhys could get lost in them for hours, felt small under the sheer power this orc could exude with just a look. It was only more intimidating as the orc began to come nearer, the bed dipping under the weight of the beast as he crawled above the small elf waiting for him.
Rhys could only watch in silent awe as his long, thin frame was easily shrouded by the mass of him, nearly twice as tall and easily twice as wide as Rhys. Fear was creeping up inside of him again, laced with arousal and want, as thick fingers began to skim up the outside of his thigh, nudging the silk robe higher and higher in his wake. Rhys shuddered and spread his legs willingly, cheeks flushed hot with his own lewd behavior.
“Pretty,” the brute grunted as he squeezed Rhys’ thigh, making him whimper softly at the tight grip; Rhys had no doubt this man could snap his bone in half without breaking a sweat.
“Oh, um, thank you…,” Rhys muttered shyly, sighing as a calloused thumb swept up his inner thigh. The orc chuckled, whether at his response or his reaction, Rhys wasn’t sure, lips twisting into a grin around hooked teeth.
“You like.” A statement more than a question, though it projected the truth. Rhys could only nod and spread his legs that much farther as the tip of the orc’s thumb grazed the smooth skin of his pelvis, his robe nearly hiked up around his hips.
“May I… um… may I ask your name?” Rhys asked, bashful, the warm light of the fire casting shadows that only seemed to accentuate the contrast in their skin tones; pale and milky beside toned and earthy.
“Hmmm…,” the orc hummed thoughtfully as he leaned close to Rhys’ face, dangling necklaces tickling at Rhys’ chest. Without warning, the orc grabbed for Rhys’ wrist in a painful grasp, making the elf whimper softly. The grip didn’t relent as Rhys’ hand was brought to the orc’s chest, right beside a scar on his left pec; Rhys couldn’t help but ghost the pad of his thumb over it.
“Jack,” the orc said, revealing the name Rhys would be shouting into the night.
“Jack,” Rhys repeated before he was startled by the loud, approving grunt Jack released, nostrils flaring around a tight exhale.
“Again,” Jack growled, pinning the wrist in his hand down to the bed. Rhys’ brow furrowed in bemusement, eyes falling down to where Jack’s free hand tugged the silk rope free, leaving Rhys’ robe to fall open.
“Oh!” Rhys exclaimed, flushing as he became exposed. “You— you want me to say your name again?”
Jack nodded, and is if to encourage him, reached down between Rhys’ spread legs to brush the thick, rough pad of his middle finger against his puckered hole.
”Jack…,” Rhys murmured on an exhale, cock stirring against his belly at the touch.
Suddenly, with a violence Rhys had been expecting from the start, Jack let go of his wrist only to grab him under the knee instead, hoisting his leg up, up, until his knee was nearly pressed into the bed beside his ear, exposing Rhys in a way he’d never experienced before. Rhys squealed as he fisted his hands into soft leopard fur for purchase, the heel of his opposite foot coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder.
The dry, relentless press of Jack’s middle finger at his hole had Rhys hissing in pain, the sting of the thick digit spreading him with the same girth of two of his own. Rhys tried to squirm away but the grip on his leg only tightened to keep him still, a pained whine trembling from his throat as Jack continued to poke and prod against the resistance.
“Jack, wait, please!” Rhys pleaded, vision blurring with hot tears. Desperately, Rhys reached down between his legs, blinding groping for Jack’s wrist to stop the pain. Rhys’ slim fingers didn’t even come close to closing around the large joint, and the harsh tugs he gave did nothing against Jack’s power.
“No wait,” Jack growled threateningly, pushing harder, the tip forcing its way in. Rhys sobbed and gave another hard tug, at least managing to get the orc’s eyes trained on his face again.
In a silent offering, Rhys let his mouth fall open, tongue lolling out against his bottom lip in an obscene gesture. That seemed to catch the orc’s attention, his ministrations halting as he stared into the gaping, wet orifice. A grunt from Jack, approval, go on. Rhys tugged at his wrist again, let his fingers trail down to trace over Jack’s massive ones as Rhys tilted his chin up. In here.
Spurred on by the offering, Jack gave Rhys some respite, cutting off Rhys’ sigh of relief with a forceful three fingers pressing on his tongue. Rhys had to fight not to gag as Jack pressed them deep inside, feeling around every moist inch he could reach. Rhys moaned around them and brought both of his hands to circle around Jack’s wrist, index, middle finger, and thumb just barely touching.
Air was forced out of Rhys’ lungs as Jack leaned farther over him, moving close to get a better look. The position was a stretch, his entire body nearly folded in half, and Rhys praised his ancestors for their flexible genetics. Insistent prodding turned into a rhythmic thrust, the orc’s fingers pulling out, out out before diving right back in. In an effort to not choke, Rhys tilted his head back, tongue working between each of Jack’s fingers in a practiced motion.
Jack may have trained for war his whole life, but Rhys had trained for this.
Years of curiosity and what some would consider depravity had led him down a path of experimentation, though only to his own hands. Too scared to miss this opportunity, Rhys never put his purity on the line. But oh, what Rhys could do with his hands, his mouth.
Even with all of Rhys’ naivety it was apparent that Jack was not unaffected by his work. His nostrils were flared as he huffed out deep breaths, and when Rhys glanced down between them, the growing outline of an already enormous cock was pressed against the front of his pants. Toes curling at the mere sight, Rhys moaned around Jack’s fingers again, perfectly rounded fingernails doing little against Jack’s thick skin as he squeezed his wrist.
Without warning, Jack ripped his fingers free, an obscene sting of saliva connecting Rhys’ lips to the dripping tips of Jack’s fingers. Rhys gasped for air as if he was coming to the surface from being dunked under water, breathing in open-mouthed pants as he gazed up at the orc above him.
“Good kitten,” Jack rumbled as he shook his wrist free of Rhys’ grip, fingers returning to prodding touches at Rhys’ tight hole.
The slick glide made a world of a difference, eyelids fluttering at the pleasant sensation. There was still a significant lack of gentility as Jack began to force his middle finger inside again with short jabs, but Rhys didn’t mind, not at all; Rhys supposed he should be thankful the beast was kind enough to prep him at all. But that rough, demanding touch was what Rhys had craved, the stretch of just one, thick finger driving Rhys mad with lust.
Once Jack was able to thrust in to the third knuckle he was already adding a second finger and Rhys was quickly realizing that he was underprepared. Even with how he’d worked himself open earlier in the night, three fingers stretching, scissoring, it was already nothing compared to Jack’s two fingers. Rhys tried desperately to relax, brow furrowed and lips rolled between his teeth as he whimpered softly.
With almost no effort, Jack’s wide fingers brushed against a spot Rhys had only found within himself recently, causing a warmth to blossom alongside the pain. Rhys’ features smoothed somewhat, and Rhys wasn’t sure whether it was attentiveness or sheer dumb luck, but Jack brushed that spot again dug into it until Rhys’ jaw was slack once again with lips forming around quiet moans.
“Yes… Jack…,” Rhys murmured, only to cry out when Jack traced a deliberate circle into that wonderful spot, precum oozing from the tip of his cock in a pearlescent smear.
”Again.” Jack almost sounded angry, and Rhys’ eyes flew open in fear, though he was only met with hunger in that land and sea. Barely a flick against his prostate had Rhys jolting in surprise, followed by a long, grinding press.
“J-Jaaaack,” Rhys whined, toes curling as Jack began to thrust is fingers right into the source of all his pleasure. Jack’s assault hardly left Rhys with the right mind to register the pressure of a third finger stretching him wide, the stinging pain creating a dangerous mixture of hormones in the pit of his stomach.
“For me,” Jack muttered almost distractedly as he watched his fingers disappear into that tight ring. Jack’s downcast gaze had Rhys’ eyes moving south as well, and once again he was in awe of what was before him.
Jack was undoubtedly fully hard now, thick cock straining against the laced string barely keeping his trousers closed, the girth of him nearly prying the poor things apart. Rhys’ mouth salivated at the sight and he so desperately wished he could see just even a bit of it, wished the thin layer of linen undergarments wasn’t obstructing the view between the loosening string.
Rhys tried to reach for him but came up short, Jack’s hips canted just out of his reach. But the motion seemed to catch the orc’s attention, earning Rhys a pleased growl at his eagerness to touch.
Jack lowered Rhys’ hips and shuffled himself closer, letting Rhys’ hips rest against his thighs as he pressed his hips forward. It was still a bit of a stretch, but Rhys managed to hook his index finger in one of the laces by rocking forward, only to fall right back down onto the bed when Jack curled three fingers right into his prostate. Rhys moaned and arched off the bed, unintentionally pulling the string free from Jack’s trousers as his hand came to rest beside his head.
In a flash of motion, Jack pulled his fingers free from Rhys’ tight hole and pulled his pants and undergarments down just enough that he could tuck them under his balls to keep them out of the way. There wasn’t much time for Rhys to react as Jack’s hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of his dick reached forward to grab Rhys’ by the head, pulling him forward until he was forced to sit up, knees bent and legs spread wide beneath him. Rhys fumbled under the rough treatment, hands slapping against Jack’s hips to catch himself so as not to smash face-first into the orc’s pelvis.
Nearly cross-eyed staring down at the cock mere centimeters from his lips, Rhys gasped in surprise at the sight before him. A shade or two darker than the rest of him, Jack’s cock was like nothing Rhys had ever seen before; but then again, there was a lot about Jack that Rhys had never seen before. There was extra skin that Rhys seemed to lack on his own much smaller cock covering the flared edges of the head, just the slit peeking through.
Intrigued yet cautious, Rhys wrapped one hand around the shaft, near the middle at the widest part, thumb a good few inches from reaching his index finger with the girth of it. Licking his lips, Rhys slowly started to pull down, watching the skin unfurl in an entrancing motion that had Rhys perking up with excitement, tips of his ears twitching.
Just as the head of Jack’s cock came free the orc reached for one of those twitching ears, pinching the pointed tip in an upward stroking motion that had Rhys’ lips falling open on a moan. Nobody had ever touched his ears before, had never even thought to try it on himself, but the heat that licked up his spine had his mind going numb.
With a pliant, open mouth in front of him, Jack used the grip on Rhys’ ear to yank him forward, forcing his lips to open around the head of his cock. Rhys jumped in surprise, eyes immediately watering as Jack tried to give too much, too fast. Involuntarily squeezing tight at the shaft, Rhys tried to get his bearings only to have Jack grunt and try to thrust deeper, though Rhys’ jaw could only stretch so much.
With only a bit more than the head in his mouth, Rhys was at his limit. He was already drooling and struggling to breath, but he powered through it, concentrated on keeping himself sane until Jack pulled him back a few inches by the grip on his ear, making Rhys shudder from head to toe at the unexpected pleasure. Just as quickly as Jack had retreated he was pulling Rhys back in, fucking Rhys’ mouth onto what little he could fit.
“Gooood kitten,” Jack praised again, dragging the ‘good’ out on a moan. The first moan Rhys had managed to work from the orc, in fact, and it did not go unnoticed.
Pride surged through Rhys, cock twitching where it stood proudly between his legs. He really liked that, making Jack feel good, and he wanted to do it more. Having to concentrate to complete the action, Rhys slowly raised his gaze to look up at Jack, eyes big and adoring as he searched the orc’s face for reactions. With his free hand he reached up to tuck some hair behind his ear that had fallen into his eyes, fingers trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Using the hand wrapped around Jack’s cock, Rhys started to stroke up and down, down, down until he reached the base, dark, coarse hair scraping his knuckles. Jack seemed to like that, his features scrunching up as he let out a puff of air through gritted teeth, the insistent pushing and pulling of Rhys’ head being taken over by Jack instead thrusting his hips.
Rhys continued with that motion while experimenting with another, using what little room he had left in his mouth to twirl his tongue around the head of Jack’s cock, tracing the shape of it before nudging against the slit curiously. That earned him a loud groan and a sudden burst of flavor, precum spilling onto his tongue in a sudden gush that had Rhys moaning. He eagerly swallowed up the new taste, bitter and tangy in comparison to Rhys’ own mild flavor.
In search of more, Rhys sucked hard at the head, choking as Jack bucked into his mouth at the sensation. The sudden forcefulness had Rhys pulling back for air and coughing in the wake of the intrusion, quivering hands wiping at the mess coating his lips and chin. Not giving Rhys much time to recover, Jack grabbed the elf by his bicep and flipped him onto his front with an easy flick of his wrist, hands seeking out slim hips to raise them up in the air.
Rhys turned his head to one side so his face wasn’t so smushed into the bedding, thighs squeezed together tight where he was on his knees, ass presented to the orc behind him. The position had him flushing all the way from the tips of his ears to his collar bones, once again on full display. Jack was quick to take his modesty from him, though, sliding a large hand between Rhys’ thighs so he could force them apart, fingers squeezing at the meaty inner thigh. Rhys hummed appreciatively at the touch, his skin already so sensitive from the lack of attention.
Rhys was learning rather quickly that Jack was an impatient brute, three fingers already pressing back inside his stretched hole. A loud moan erupted from deep within Rhys’ chest as Jack began thrusting them at a rapid pace and pressed the head of his cock into the soft, supple flesh of Rhys’ left ass cheek, smearing precum and saliva there.
Rhys knew what was coming next, and although his body still ached for it, could feel the way his muscles tightened around Jack’s fingers at the mere anticipation of it, he was starting to get worried. Even with the way Jack scissored his fingers in wide, arcing circles, Rhys felt like he’d severely overestimated how much his body could take. How could Jack ever fit?
Pressing his forehead into the bed, Rhys peered down his chest and between his legs, confirming his doubts. Jack was enormous, looked impossibly bigger from upside down like this, massive cock hanging heavily between his legs like a threat. Rhys clenched up again around Jack’s fingers, driving the pads of his fingers right into that sweet bundle of nerves that had Rhys arching and sobbing into the bed.
“Ready,” Jack announced as he pulled his fingers free once again, leaving Rhys feeling open and empty.
The sensation didn’t last long however as Rhys felt the meaty head of Jack’s cock pressing against him, prodding at his ass with a fresh dousing of precum to slick the way. Insistent nerves had Rhys strung tight, causing him to jump like a skittish animal just at the crude sound of the orc spitting into the palm of his hand. Even now, with just the head of Jack’s cock rubbing against his tight hole as the warrior slicked his cock in fast strokes, Rhys felt like it was too much.
But that was nothing in comparison to what would come next.
Trying desperately to relax, Rhys whimpered as he felt the thick head starting to press forward with more intent, slowly nudging its way inside as tears prickled at the corner of Rhys’ eyes. It burned in a way that Rhys couldn’t even fathom, all of the air punched out of him in a broken cry as he was split open on giant orc cock. Rhys felt like he was going to shake apart, fingers curling into tight fists around handfuls of leopard fur and eyes squeezing shut tight to hide from the pain.
Behind him, Jack was rumbling a pleased note, big hands encircling Rhys’ waist to help pull the elf deeper onto his cock. Rhys couldn’t stop the shrill cry that tore from his aching lungs, the head fully breeching to make way for the rest of what Jack had to offer. Rhys buried his face into the soft pelts below him to muffle his whimpers and moans of pain, the silky fur a comforting contrast where it brushed against his cheeks.
“Good little elf…,” Jack praised, voice husky as one of his hands left Rhys’ waist to trail up his back, thumb tracing up the length of his spine, fingers dancing over his ribcage in a surprisingly gentle caress. Rhys arched under the praise, the touch, body relaxing minutely at the acknowledgement that he was being good.
For a while, Rhys felt like it was never going to end. Time seemed warped, slower as the pain stretched on, reaching deeper and deeper inside of him until Rhys could feel no more. He wasn’t sure when, but at some point the pain faded into a numbness, body and mind accustomed to the persistent rocking of Jack’s hips. He could only feel the stretch now, Jack’s cock working him open wide, wider than Rhys would have thought possible.
Somewhere between a sigh of relief and a punched-out groan, Rhys expelled all breath inside of him as he felt Jack’s hips finally meet his own, burying himself to the hilt. Rhys could hardly hear the orc growling beyond the ringing in his ears, numbness ebbing away to pain and pleasure as Jack began to grind his hips. It felt like his insides were being rearranged, moving to make way for all of Jack’s girth, like Rhys was made to take him.
Just when Rhys thought no more could fit, Jack leaned over him, one hand coming down above his head to support the beast’s weight, cock nudging just that much deeper as he leaned forward. Rhys whimpered at the feeling of absolute fullness, muscles reflexively clenching tight around Jack’s thick cock as a shiver rippled down his spine. A loud groan in Rhys’ ear had him perking up, pointed tips of his ears twitching as he felt Jack’s warm breath graze over the nape of his neck.
“Jack…,” Rhys pleaded, turning his head out from where he’d been hiding so he could glance back at the orc covering him with his bulk, cheeks flushed and eyes glistening with tears. Jack blew out a grunting huff through his nostrils and pressed the tip of his nose to Rhys’ temple, mouth so close to where Rhys wanted it.
In an effort to be subtle, too afraid to ask for what he wanted, Rhys craned his neck so he could brush the tip of his ear along Jack’s bottom lip, earning him a playful lick along the outer cartilage that had Rhys squealing in delight. Jack’s hips bucked with nowhere to go as Rhys clenched down tight around him again, forcing Rhys’ body to rock forward with the force.
The hand that Jack had at his waist slid down to instead grope at a round ass cheek, thumb wiggling between what little space there was between Rhys’ flesh and Jack’s enormous cock to pull Rhys’ hole open. With the extra bit of room, the friction on Rhys’ hole eased into a slightly smoother glide as Jack began to pull his hips back.
The feeling of Jack’s cock slowly sliding free was somewhere between amazing and maddening. Rhys could feel every inch, felt like he was hollowed out in the shape of Jack’s cock in his wake. That empty feeling was starting to tremble through him again with each bit that Jack pulled out, all the way until just the head remained, the flared head caught on Rhys’ rim like a stopper.
In the same motion, Jack thrust right back in in one fluid motion and bit down on Rhys’ sensitive ear, eliciting a surprised moan from the elf. He could feel his skin flush hot at the pleasure alongside the cool sensation of goosebumps rippling down his skin like a wave, losing all air in his lungs as Jack filled him to the brim once again. Rhys could feel his cock stirring again where it hung soft between his legs, twitching with interest as Jack pulled on the bit of ear between his teeth.
“Please, Jack, please,” Rhys whimpered, not even entirely sure what he was pleading for. He was rewarded with another lengthy retreat before he was rattled with the thrust back in, big cock rubbing against all the right places. Rhys’ mouth hung open on a silent moan, brows knit together with the discovery of a new pleasure.
Jack was relentless after that. Fast and hard, shaking Rhys’ entire being, scooting him farther and farther up the bed until Jack pulled him right back down. Rhys could hardly breathe with how violent Jack’s thrusts were, no doubt the thrusts of a pent-up warrior seeking release.
Rhys was happy to find he loved it just as much as he’d always thought he would.
Each thrust forced a stunted, broken moan from Rhys’ lips, drool trickling down his chin as he lost all ability to do anything other than cry out and breathe. Regardless of the angle Jack’s magnificent cock always seemed to brush Rhys’ prostate, the sheer size of it leaving no room for Jack to possibly miss. Rhys was already fully hard again where it swung in tandem with Jack’s thrusts, precum leaking from his cock in long, stringy drips.
“S-s-s-o g-o-o-o-o-d,” Rhys whined as each sound was fucked right from his lungs, a stuttering mess to the beat of Jack’s hips.
Rhys nearly screamed when Jack pulled out, leaving him clenching around nothing. For a moment, Rhys feared that this was all already coming to an end, expected a shower of cum to bring his fantasy to a close. Disappointment was already filling him, cock aching with the need for release.
Instead, Rhys was manhandled about the bed, Jack’s strong hands moving him around with ease until they were at the top of the bed. Jack leaned heavily against the headboard, a massive metal thing that seemed impractical for a temporary camp. He held Rhys in his lap, back to chest, hands wrapped firmly around each of Rhys’ thighs just below the crease of his knees. He had Rhys spread wide, legs open and knees bent as Jack hovered him over what Rhys needed most.
With Rhys already loose gravity did all the work as Jack started to lower him on his cock, Rhys’ head tipping back to fall against Jack’s shoulder as he arched and moaned at being filled once again. It was an easy glide, and within seconds Rhys was fully seated on his cock, breaths coming in gasping little pants as he tried to wiggle for more friction.
Jack chuckled at his impatience but rocked his hips up anyway, nudging his cock into the deepest part of Rhys he could reach. Rhys shuddered and glanced down at the sight of them, hands finding purchase against Jack’s muscular thighs.
Like this, Rhys could truly appreciate their difference in size. For his people, Rhys was tall. Long and slender in every way, Rhys had never considered himself small. But with Jack’s bulk surrounding him, big hands encapsulating his thighs, large chest a solid surface at Rhys’ back, trunk-like legs making Rhys’ look like that of a dwarf. The whole scene sent a thrill through Rhys, toes curling as a wave of arousal had him clenching tight around the impressive length filling him up.
Spurred on by that tight heat, Jack raised Rhys up, up, up just to sink him right back down, and Rhys brought his hands up to grip at Jack’s forearms just to feel those muscles work as he fucked the elf onto his dick. Rhys felt weightless in Jack’s arms, the orc hardly having to use any effort to pull him up and down.
It wasn’t long before Rhys was a mess again, nothing but a means of giving and receiving pleasure as he was absolutely wrecked on orc dick. His moans were increasing in pitch as Jack started to thrust his hips up to meet the rhythm of the elf being bounced on his dick, Rhys’ legs kicking out wildly as the pleasure surmounted.
“Jack! Jackjackjackjackjack,” Rhys rambled nonsensically, pressing his cheek into where Jack nuzzled against it and licked out with a wet tongue to lap at Rhys’ jaw. Rhys’ mouth was stuck open again, a constant litany of moans and whines and whimpers escaping his lips.
Rhys could feel his orgasm approaching and couldn’t help the need to chase it, reaching for his neglected cock only to be bit on the ear, hard. A warning. Crying out, Rhys’ hand froze where it had been reaching for his cock, earning him a pleased rumble.
“Please… please, Jack, I-I want to come,” Rhys whispered, toes curling as the orc fucked him impossibly harder.
“Jack make pretty elf come.” There was a certain meanness to Jack’s voice, clearly no room to argue, but Rhys was just relieved to hear that an orgasm was in his future.
Jack made no effort to each for his cock, however, just continued to spear up into Rhys without a moments rest. Rhys felt himself coiling tighter and tighter, back arching, head thrown back over Jack’s shoulder, calves squeezing tight at Jack’s fingers where they were sandwiched in the crease of his knee. Everything was going white, stars dancing behind his eyelids as the head of Jack’s cock continuously jabbed into his prostate.
“Come, pretty elf,” Jack goaded in Rhys’ ear, voice husky and gruff, “come for King Jack.”
Body bowed like the fine craftsmanship of an elven recurve, Rhys orgasmed on a long, drawn-out moan, iridescent cum splattering all over his chest and belly completely untouched. The stars in Rhys’ vision exploded into a white canvas, vision failing him as the intensity of his orgasm hit him. His body felt like it was on fire, muscles working themselves to exhaustion with how he tensed.
Too lost in his orgasm, Rhys hadn’t even realized Jack had started to come, too, grunting and growling as his hips stuttered to fuck his cum deep into the elf above him. It wasn’t until Rhys was starting to feel stuffed that he noticed, not even sure how he could have room to be filled even more.
“Nnh… haah,” Rhys panted as he squirmed with discomfort. Seemingly in a bid of mercy, Jack lifted Rhys just a few inches off his cock before it sprung free, still shooting more cum as what he’d released inside started to spill out. Rhys shivered at the sensation and glanced down to where Jack was still coming, painting Rhys’ softening cock and the inside of his thighs a creamy white.
Curious and incredibly turned on by the amount of cum Jack was spilling, Rhys reached down to wrap a hand around the head of Jack’s cock, squeezing tight as he began to work the head at a fast pace. Jack nearly howled at the sensation and started bucking his hips up into Rhys’ fist, cum smearing all over the palm of Rhys’ hand and seeping through his fingers.
Jack’s grunting breaths slowly started to calm as his orgasm abated, the last spurts of his cum coaxed out by Rhys’ thumb rubbing at the slit. Rhys had no idea orcs could come so much, and although he couldn’t argue how undeniably hot it was, there was a lot of work ahead of them.
Rhys’ ears perked up as he heard Jack mumbled something into his hairline, curved teeth scraping against Rhys’ skin. He hummed curiously, reaching up with one hand to caress Jack’s jaw.
”Mine,” Jack repeated a little louder this time as he released Rhys’ thighs so he could wrap his arms around the elf, holding him as if he were a toy.
Rhys blushed at the notion and for a moment wished it were true. But Rhys knew he’d have to go back to his village, back to boring elven men he’d be married off to first thing. He turned his head to press his forehead against the orc’s strong jaw, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
Little did Rhys know he’d be embarking on a journey back to the orc village first thing in the morning, forever claimed by the great king of the orcs.