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“You can take me, you know it,” I promise, kissing her again.

Guiding myself to her entrance, I rub the head of my cock through her folds, teasing her clit with the pressure. Her hips buck.

“Ghorzag,” she pleads.

I push in, slowly—inch by aching inch. Her pussy stretches around me, tight and perfect. Her mouth falls open in a gasp as I bottom out, buried to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” she moans. “You’re… it’s so full. I can feel every part of you.”

I groan, gripping her hips. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t want to let go.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she whispers, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Maybe I want this to last forever.”

I thrust—slow, deep, reverent. Her head tips back, mouth falling open in a moan so raw it nearly undoes me.

“Faster,” she begs, nails dragging down my back.

I give her what she asks for, picking up the pace, each thrust claiming her anew. The furs beneath us shift. The brazier flickers wildly with the rhythm of our bodies. The sound of her slick pussy taking my cock echoes in the room, a melody of need and devotion.

“You’re mine,” I growl, burying my face against her neck. “Every breath, every heartbeat. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she cries. “I love you, Ghorzag?—”

The words hit me like a spear to the chest. I kiss her hard, a desperate thing filled with too many unsaid truths. I thrust harder, losing rhythm, chasing release. Her cries grow frantic, legs locking around me as she clutches my shoulders.

“I’m coming,” she gasps, body tightening beneath me.

“Come with me,” I command, voice breaking.

She shatters around me, pussy fluttering in spasms as I finally lose control. I thrust once, twice, then come with a roar, spilling deep inside her. My cock jerks with every wave, filling her until we’re nothing but heartbeats and heat and tangled limbs.

We collapse together, her hands still clinging to me. Her breath ghosts across my collarbone, her lips brushing the old scar there.

“I’ve never felt anything like that,” she whispers, eyes wide.

“Neither have I,” I admit, brushing her hair from her face. “Not just the pleasure. The peace.”

She smiles, soft and sated. “The War God’s flame doesn’t burn us.”

“No,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It lights the way forward.”

“We… survived so much,” she whispers, eyes drifting closed. “Is this real?”

I kiss the top of her head. “As real as the War God’s flame that saved us. No illusions can mimic such peace.” My voice comes out husky, chest vibrating with each word. “I vow to cherish you, Lirienne, for all the battles to come—whether they be famine, raiders, or internal disputes. We face them side by side.”

Her fingers trace an old scar near my ribs, reminiscent of a dark elf skirmish from years past. “And I vow,” she says softly, “to stand with you, offering what knowledge and compassion I have, bridging orc and human. We no longer fear illusions. We can build a future where outsiders might see orcs not as monsters but as potential allies.”

A rush of emotion swamps me, recalling my father’s last words, urging me to be strong for the clan. He never foresaw a future where humans and orcs might unite in love. Yet here we are, forging a new dawn. Gently, I tilt her face up and kiss her, letting the quiet intimacy speak for us.

Time feels suspended as we doze, limbs entwined. Outside, the clan’s celebration continues, but gradually quiets as the night deepens. A subtle hush settles over the fortress, broken by occasional laughter or the soft strum of an orcish lute in the distance. My thoughts circle the final sign we witnessed—the War God’s acceptance—how it changed the entire clan’s perspective. Even the ominous illusions had vanished, replaced by calmer skies and renewed crops. The orchard caretaker reported new buds sprouting, the rotted seeds unexpectedly reviving. The War God’s final blessing extended to every corner of Stormborn’s domain.

At some point, I rise carefully, mindful of Lirienne’s contented form. Tugging a soft fur blanket over her, I step to the small window slit in the lodge’s wall. Starlight spills through, revealing the courtyard beyond. From this vantage, I see orcsfinishing the last of the feast, a group of children lying on the steps, blinking up at the stars in exhausted wonder. The bonfires smolder, sending curls of smoke into a serene sky. A sky free of illusions and storms, a sign of the War God’s peace.

The future unspools in my mind: rebuilding trust among the clan, integrating Lirienne’s knowledge of herbs to improve healing, perhaps forging new ties with distant human villages to show orcs no longer raid them for spoils. We can lead them together, forging a new era. Pride and gratitude warm my chest.

Quiet footsteps rouse me from my reverie. Lirienne joins me at the window, the blanket draped around her shoulders. She nestles against me, gazing at the tranquil scene below. “They’re… so peaceful,” she remarks, eyes shining. “I never dreamed orcs could be so warm once suspicion cleared.”

I slide an arm around her waist. “Nor did I dream a human bride could prove so resilient. Because of you, they found reason to set aside old hatred.” Our gazes meet, a mutual promise in the hush. “This is our clan now— no illusions, no traitors. A future shaped by courage, not fear.”