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Our bodies align as I position myself at her entrance. My cock throbs as I rub the head through her folds, watching her eyes flutter closed.

“Breathe,” I tell her. “Stay with me.”

She nods. I ease into her slowly, my jaw tightening as her slick heat stretches around me. Inch by inch, I push forward, giving her time to adjust. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.

“Lirienne,” I choke out. “You feel—fuck—you’re perfect.”

She clutches my arms, thighs trembling as I bury myself to the hilt.

“Oh gods,” she whispers, eyes glassy. “You’re so deep.”

I groan, pressing my forehead to hers. “I know. You’re taking me so well.”

For a moment, we don’t move. I let her adjust, let her body recognize mine. Then she shifts her hips and moans.

“That’s it,” I grit, starting to thrust slowly. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Full,” she gasps. “It’s… intense. I can feel everything.”

“That’s because you were made for me,” I growl, voice low and rough. “Your pussy—gods, it’s gripping me like you don’t want to let go.”

Her breath shudders. I thrust again, deeper this time, and her eyes roll back.

“Harder,” she pleads.

I obey. My hips snap forward, and the slap of skin against skin fills the tent. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, matching each driving stroke. Her walls flutter around me, and I know she’s close again.

“Come for me,” I snarl. “Let me feel you.”

She cries out, her body seizing around my cock, trembling through her release. The sight of her—eyes wild, mouth open, body arched in pleasure—undoes me.

I thrust a few more times before my own climax barrels through me, fierce and unstoppable. I bury my face in her neck and groan as I spill inside her, hips bucking, every muscle taut.

Caught in the throes of sensation, we cling to each other, anger giving way to relief, fear turning into a vulnerability we share with no one else. For a heartbeat, it feels like a sacred vow—far deeper than the alliance the clan demanded. Here, in the hush between gasps, we confront the raw truth: we are more than chieftain and captive bride, more than orc and human. We are two souls colliding in the midst of chaos.

Eventually, our frantic pace slows, the crescendo ebbing into a trembling aftermath. Her body sinks against mine, heartbeats thudding in unison. My forehead presses to hers, sweat mingling on our skin. No words come, but none are needed. We stay like that for a long moment, breaths ragged, the lantern’s soft light throwing our shadows against the tent walls.

As the haze of passion lifts, reality seeps back in. My arms still wrap around her, I feel her breathing steady, but the tension returns like a creeping chill. The clan’s crisis hasn’t vanished. The sabotage is still real, the water still tainted. The War God’s rumored wrath hovers over everything, and we have just tangled ourselves in a new, complicated bond.

She lifts her head, eyes shining with a mix of wonder and unease. “Ghorzag,” she whispers, voice thick. “What did we just?—?”

I close my eyes briefly. “Something neither of us planned.” My own heart hammers, the enormity sinking in. I’m the chieftain, and this act carries massive consequences. If the clan discovers how deeply our alliance now runs, suspicion might intensify rather than ease.

She seems to read my thoughts. Carefully, she lifts herself from my arms, tugging the edge of a blanket to cover her shoulders. “They’ll suspect,” she murmurs, half to herself.

“They already suspect everything,” I say, bitterness creeping in. “And this… might give them new fuel.”

Her face pales. “I never wanted to make things worse.”

I push upright, forcing the swirling mess of emotions aside. “We’ll handle it.” The words feel hollow, but I try to inject confidence. Carefully, I reach for her hand. “What happened here… it doesn’t solve the sabotage or the clan’s panic. But it changes—” I pause, grappling for the right words. “It changes us.”

She nods, biting her lower lip. “It does.” Her gaze flickers with a swirl of tenderness and worry. “I won’t regret it,” she adds, softly. “No matter what happens.”

My chest tightens at the admission, a warmth flooding me. “Nor will I.”

Yet the sense of urgency remains. I can’t linger in this fleeting intimacy while my clan is in peril. Swallowing hard, I begin reassembling my clothing—buckling my vest, adjusting the bracers on my wrists. My mind already churns with how to handle the tainted cistern and quell rumors that might explode once the clan learns their water is unsafe.

Lirienne mirrors my motions, dressing quietly. The air between us still vibrates with unspoken longing, but the pragmatic orc in me recognizes we have no time to dwell. Once fully clothed, she turns to me, arms wrapped around her middle as if to ward off the chill.