Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Three

Varen

After they had cleaned up, then eaten a small breakfast of their prepared rations, Korik said he would check on the status of the storm. He took up his usual position on the ground, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed and pressing his hands against the cool earth. His hair, though a little out of place, was still in the long braid Varen had done for him the day before.

Varen sat on his bedroll, watching him and thinking of what had just happened. He had surprised himself with the offer to Korik. It was something he had been thinking about when he woke with the orc’s arm over his shoulder, but had been unsure if he should say it—right until the words were leaving his lips. But Korik had surprised him even more by accepting.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere, of course. He’d admired the orc’s form before, and not always subtly. And he had often felt Korik’s eyes when they were on him, the heat of his lingering gaze. Still, he hadn’t gone into this intending to bed the orc—and even when making the offer, he had mostly expected Korik to turn him down. But when they laid beside each other as he shivered in the cold in the middle of the night, his cock had grown very interested. He lay awake for far too long, hyperaware of the orc’s big, warm body in such near proximity.

When he’d felt Korik stir to wakefulness beside him, he couldn’t contain himself. If Korik had turned him down, then he could get over his attraction: push it from his mind until it was just an awkward memory of their journey together.

But Korik had said yes to him—had moaned at his touch and rutted into his hand. He’d made Korik come, then fucked his mouth. His cock was growing hard all over again just at the memory, so he shook the thought away.

Varen had said it was just something fun to keep warm and pass the time, and Korik had agreed. At first, he had regretted saying it; but it seemed to convince Korik, so maybe it was for the best to keep things casual. That was all it was. That was all it had to mean. Right?

“Right,” he muttered to himself, turning away from where Korik was sitting. There would be plenty of time for a second round later, he was sure. For now, Korik was actually doing something useful, so he should do the same instead of replaying the scenes in his mind.

He tidied up their bedrolls, which he kept pushed together for now, and checked the seal Korik had made to close off the entrance of the cave against the snow. He pushed lightly against the layer of earth, but it was firmly in place and didn’t budge. It made him wonder how high the snow was piled outside, if it was just leaning against the wood or had buried them in here entirely. He wondered what Korik was seeing, if there were any animals nearby that could see anything useful. He wondered how long the storm would last, how long they might have the excuse of needing to keep warm.

The wind still howled outside with the occasional lull that would inevitably disappear as it picked up again. As he waited, he took each of the stone that was arranged around the cave and channeled his magic into it, warming the stone until it was almost too hot to touch. When they were all heated, the cave felt noticeably warmer, though still not enough that he would risk taking off his cloak.

It took nearly an hour for Korik to stir again, long enough that some of the warmth was wearing off. Varen had nothing better to do by then but look at the orc, so he noticed immediately when Korik seemed to come back to himself—eyelids flickering, hands closing into fists. The orc grimaced, moving his head slowly, as if his muscles had grown stiff in the time he’d been sitting there motionlessly. He blinked a few times, then looked at Varen. A slight flush rose in his face as he stretched his legs.

“Good news, I hope,” Varen said, but the way Korik’s lip twisted in a half-grimace made him think otherwise. “What did you see?”

“It was hard to tell,” Korik said. His voice came out raspy, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Everything is mostly still waiting out the storm. I couldn’t find any birds flying. I did get a few little creatures, rabbits and such, that I could get to come out of their warrens to see. But everywhere I looked, the storm was still going strong. I think we probably have another day at least. Hard to say without being able to see the sky, though.”

Varen groaned, leaning back on his bedroll. Being cooped up like this was bad enough, but not knowing when the end would be in sight—when they had such an urgent task ahead—was practically torture. He tried to ignore the guilt that simmered in his belly whenever he thought of how they wouldn’t be in this mess at all if it weren’t for him. Maybe the teleportation stone was defective, and he never should have trusted Alwyn. Or maybe he wasn’t careful enough when they were tracking and had somehow tipped off the rebel orcs to their presence, allowing for them to be hunted. Or perhaps it was cruel of him to allow Korik to come with him in the first place, knowing how little the orc wanted to do with any of this. It was true King Ruven had asked him, and he wouldn’t outright disobey; but he could have protested, or suggested an alternative, to sway the king’s opinion.

Instead, he had wanted to, what, spend more time with Korik? He’d certainly gotten his wish, but he should have known there would always be a catch.

“Well,” he finally sighed, sensing Korik’s discomfort with his frustration. “I suppose we have a lot of time to kill, then, don’t we?”

Korik flushed, looking away, and Varen winced.

“I just meant—being cooped up like this with nothing to do. It’s a classic recipe for madness,” he continued, before Korik could say anything. “I would much rather be out walking right now. The longer we’re stuck, the harder this all will be.”

Korik was silent for a moment, but he came to sit down next to Varen in his bedroll. Varen could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. The orc always became uncomfortable when they were in such close proximity, but hopefully that would fade more with time. Finally, he offered,

“There are plenty of ways to pass the time.”

Varen smirked and asked in a teasing tone, “Oh? What would you suggest?”

Korik’s expression was sweetly flustered as he glanced away, but he still answered. “Telling stories. Singing songs. Playing games. I remember doing all these things as a child, when traveling with our clan.”

It was a more earnest answer than Varen had been expecting.

“I’m not much of a singer, and I doubt we know many of the same songs,” he said, shaking his head. “But I suppose we could come up with some stories. Or what games would you suggest?”

Korik thought about it for a long moment.

“It is more difficult when we’re in a small space like this,” he finally confessed. “I liked to play a game where you would pick something you could see, then give hints about it until someone could guess what it was. Not much to see here, though.”

Varen chuckled. The image of a young Korik playing children’s games was surprisingly endearing. Had he always been so quiet and serious? Was he shy as a child, or had he grown more reserved as an adult?

“I remember something we would play around the campfire during my training,” Varen said. “You would tell three things about yourself, but one of them is a lie. The others would have to guess which is the lie. Want to try that?”

Korik seemed to think for a long moment, considering. “You go first,” he finally said, and Varen laughed.

“Alright,” he said, thinking. What had he used to say when he’d played this game before? Mostly he remembered the truths—and the lies—getting more and more raunchy the longer the game went on. Something told him, though, he should probably start with topics that were more tame. “Let’s see... My first job was as a courier, my favorite food is strawberry cake, and... my youngest sibling is almost ninety years younger than me.”

Korik’s eyes grew wide at the last statement. “That can’t be true,” he said immediately, frowning, and Varen laughed again.

“It’s true!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “I’m the eldest. Most elves have a larger age gap with their siblings compared to humans and other shorter-lived races, but we’re pretty far apart, even for elves. There’s me and Enriel seventeen years apart. Then my parents had a, well, rather unexpected surprise, and then we had a baby brother. He’s sixteen now, so still at home with them.”

“But,” Korik said, still frowning in obvious confusion. “Then... How old are you?”

Varen faked an offended gasp, then laughed. “One hundred and... four. I think. You’d be surprised how quickly you lose track.”

Korik was silent for a long moment, consternation still on his face. Varen supposed that for an orc, whose life expectancy would be about a hundred years or so, it might be difficult to consider a hundred-year-old elf to still be in his prime. Well, maybe not prime , but a healthy middle age–not that it made much difference for elves.

“I’m thirty,” Korik finally blurted out, frowning. “I’m closer to your... baby brother than to you.”

Varen laughed again, waving his hand. “And our prince and his husband are younger than both of us. It’s fine. Age means little to elves the way it might to you. Once you’re an adult, we’re basically all the same until you’re closer to two hundred. That’s when you start really getting old.”

That got the orc to chuckle, though his brows were still furrowed. “Well, then, which was the lie?”

“My first job was, in fact, washing dishes for the local tavern,” Varen replied, grinning. Korik laughed again. “Your turn.”

The orc ran a nervous hand over the braid of his hair that draped over his shoulder, thinking about what he would say.

“My familiar is a cat. I won’t eat anything with coriander. And,” Korik said, then faltered. “Er, I like to dance.”

A grin split Varen’s face. The lie seemed painfully obvious, but he mostly wanted to hear more about the cat. Familiars seemed like the sort of thing only used by powerful mages sequestered away in towers, not something a healer might have; but Korik was full of surprises, he supposed. “Something tells me you don’t like to dance. Tell me about your familiar.”

“That obvious?” Korik sighed, then glanced over at him. “She’s a calico cat. Her name is Roz.”

“I’ve always been curious about familiars. Did you choose a cat, or is that just how it happened?” Varen asked, leaning forward. Korik shrugged.

“That’s just how she appeared,” he said. A small smile curled around his tusks, making Varen’s heart flutter. “She’s a calico, so I named her Roz after a rozira , a type of material made by stitching together smaller pieces of fur or fabric to make a bigger piece. Similar to a quilt. So it sort of looks like a calico pattern.”

Varen grinned. “They say your familiar is similar to your own personality and disposition. I suppose you are a bit like a cat, aren’t you?”

Korik flushed, golden eyes narrowing. “How?”

“You’re slow to warm up, that’s for sure,” Varen laughed, leaning back. Korik frowned, and he added quickly, “But you’re observant and smart. I would say you like helping people, but I think that’s more of a dog trait, isn’t it?”

“I... I suppose,” Korik stammered. He hesitated, then added, “I summoned her when I was much younger, so... Maybe if I had to summon a new familiar, it would be different now.”

Varen considered it for a moment. “I could see you still being a cat.”

Korik chuckled at that, shrugging. “Maybe. What about you?”

“Me? A familiar?” Varen asked. He was not well-versed in the type of magic needed to create a familiar—most of what he knew was augmenting the abilities of his body. He had never needed the sort of magic that summoned things, nor benefited from a familiar, since he wasn’t a wizard cooped up in a tower with the need of an assistant. But it was fun to consider what animal might represent him best. “Perhaps an owl. Very wise, moves silently through the wilderness, one of nature’s most efficient hunters. And they can either be very formidable, or very cute.”

He grinned over at Korik, who rolled his eyes. “Well? Does that seem like an accurate assessment?”

“I was thinking of a different bird,” Korik said flatly. “A peacock, always preening and strutting.”

Varen nearly burst out laughing, but gasped in fake shock. “Oh, you think I’m beautiful , then?”

Korik let out a strangled noise, color rising in his face as his joke was flipped back on him. The poor orc clearly didn’t know what to say as he looked away, stammering something intelligible.

“No, you’re right, I can see it,” Varen added, before Korik could get too uncomfortable with his salacious grin. “Although I think having a peacock following me around would be rather unwieldy. I’d never be able to sneak anywhere again.”

Korik nodded, looking relieved to have moved on. They were quiet for a little while, with the howls of the wind outside occasionally breaking the silence.

“Well,” Varen sighed, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back. “Any other ideas?”

Part of him wanted to sleep the hours away, but the thought of going back to sleep just a few hours after getting up seemed impossible. So they passed the time with more word games, then telling jokes—Korik was not very good at those—and eventually telling stories back and forth.

Varen was surprised at how similar many of their campfire stories were: tales that had been passed down across generations, likely just myths now, but had perhaps once had a grain of truth to them. Korik told him a story about Iri the Truth-Teller, who was visited by the gods when she sang to them, pleading to save her clan that was threatened by a plague. He thought it sounded very much like the myth of the Godsinger Erinden, who sang to the gods for the soul of his twin, dead from a sickness, until they wept with him and granted her life anew. When he told the story, Korik agreed they seemed similar, so they compared others to root out their similarities.

He supposed he should not have been so surprised. Though their nations had been at war for hundreds of years, there must have been a time even before that: when they had not been enemies, but neighbors, sharing geography and culture alike. Eventually, those shared stories morphed into the myths told over campfires, or while wandering the wilderness, like divergent species with a common ancestor. He wondered how many centuries it had been since an elf and an orc had sat together, sharing the myths of their people with each other.

Still, they could only remember so many tales and legends; and by the time they had exhausted their reserves, Varen doubted it was time to sleep again. He was hungry, but they were carefully rationing their food, so he had only water to sate himself until they slept again.

“How would you feel about a round two?” he asked, turning to face Korik with a grin. The orc flushed deeply, glancing away; but after a beat of discomfort, he nodded in response. “Can we try something different this time?”

“Different?” Korik asked, frowning. Varen supposed there was no way to say it delicately.

“I’d like to, ah, be inside you this time,” he said, hoping Korik didn’t notice the embarrassed flush that he was sure showed on the tips of his ears. He rarely got flustered like this, but it felt like a strangely vulnerable thing to ask, especially considering Korik would be the vulnerable one. But as much as he wanted to be intimate, the thought of taking Korik’s cock was as frightening as it was appealing, and he knew he wasn’t in the right mind space to enjoy that sort of challenge just yet. Maybe later. But for now...

“Um,” Korik stammered, looking away as his face darkened with embarrassment. He was silent for a beat, and Varen wondered if he’d just completely ruined the mood. But finally, the orc glanced back over at him and nodded. “Yes. I’ve never... done that before. But. We can try.”

Varen grinned, his hesitance forgotten in the rush of anticipation at Korik’s answer. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Although you're so much bigger than me, I don’t think I could hurt you if I tried.”

Korik frowned, and he added quickly, “Not that I would try.”

They sat staring at each other for a long moment, then he gestured to the mess of blankets beneath them. Their bedrolls were pushed together, but in the pile of blankets, it was hard to see where one ended and where the other began. “Lay down.”

Slowly, Korik lowered himself onto the blankets, until he was lying on his back and looking up at Varen. This time, he started taking off his clothes of his own accord, and Varen watched as the expanse of his torso was revealed. He was lanky, especially for an orc, with each indent of his ribs visible. But Varen could still see the power of his body, the subtle layer of muscle on his abdomen, his chest, his shoulders—

He realized Korik had stopped, looking embarrassed as Varen was just kneeling there ogling him. He smirked and started pulling off his own layers. He had no embarrassment around nudity the way Korik seemed to, but the air was felt like ice on his bare skin. So, as soon as he had peeled off all his clothes, he dove in beside Korik, sharing the warmth of his bigger body.

“You’re cold,” Korik remarked, as Varen pressed his hands to the orc’s abdomen, feeling the faint ripple of muscle.

“You’re warm,” Varen laughed, now running his hands up the length of his long torso, relishing the soft noise of surprise that Korik made in response. “Don’t worry. You’ll warm me right up.”

He dragged his hands back down the orc’s body, this time letting his fingernails lightly drag against his skin, until he reached the waistband of the orc’s trousers and gently pulled them down. Even knowing what to expect, the size of his cock made Varen’s heart leap up into his throat. He had no hang ups about his own size, but Korik made him seem comically small in comparison.

He would never get it all into his mouth, but he still leaned down over Korik and murmured, “Can I use my mouth on you?”

Korik made a soft little gasping sound that made Varen want to melt, then nodded, eyes dark with arousal. Varen held his gaze as he pushed himself lower, then licked a long, long stripe from the base of his cock all the way to the tip. The orc moaned, pressing a hand to his mouth, but didn’t look away.

Varen took the head of his cock into his mouth, teasing the underside with his tongue, while one hand fondled Korik’s balls. The orc groaned, eyes finally squeezing closed, and Varen let his fingers brush lower.

Orcs didn’t produce their own lubrication—most males of other species didn’t, which Varen had always pitied them for. So they had no lube, but he could make his own. As he licked up and down Korik’s length, he could feel his own arousal growing, so he reached between his legs to coat his fingers. Then he traced his fingers along the cleft of the orc’s ass, gently spreading him open until he found what he was looking for. The ring of muscle tensed at Varen’s touch, but gradually relaxed as he continued to lick and stroke until he could push one finger inside with little resistance.

Korik made a soft, strangled sort of noise. When Varen pulled away enough to look up at his face, he still had one hand clamped over his mouth. His cheeks were flushed a darker green, eyes half-lidded, his braided hair a mess—Varen’s cock bucked at the thought of how undone he was with just a finger inside him.

“Good?” he asked softly, moving slowly to let the orc get used to the sensation. Korik nodded, still not quite looking at him. Varen slipped a second finger in, working Korik open as gently as he could manage, until Korik’s faint moans took on a more urgent edge.

“It—It feels good,” Korik stammered, when his eyes landed on Varen watching him carefully. “Don’t stop.”

Varen grinned. “I won’t. Don’t worry.”

When a third finger slid home easily—Korik’s breath was coming in rough, needy rasps—Varen leaned back to grip his cock with his other hand.

“Ready?” he asked, and Korik nodded. “Relax. Deep breath.”

The orc let out a long, slow breath. As he did, Varen pressed forward, guiding the head of his cock to where his fingers were buried. Tight heat enveloped him as he slipped his fingers out and pushed his cock in. Korik sucked in a sharp gasp, and Varen moaned with pleasure as the orc’s channel shuddered around him.

“Slow,” Korik panted. Varen nodded, looking down to watch himself disappear into Korik’s body—committing to memory the sight of his tight hole stretched around Varen’s cock. He moved slowly as Korik asked, reveling in the smooth glide of their skin together that sent hot shivers racing up his spine.

He was fucking an orc, he thought—the rush of power hit him all at once. It was only because Korik wanted it, of course; but there was still something about being the one to dominate the other man, so much bigger than him, that made him have to stifle a faint whimper of arousal. Korik could refuse, could easily push him away, been the one to dominate him— but he didn’t. He wanted Varen, trusted Varen.

“You feel amazing,” Varen groaned, pleasure coiling in his belly. He had to think of something else, anything else, or he was going to finish far too soon. With one hand, he reached up and stroked Korik’s cock, rock-hard where it was pressed against his stomach. He couldn’t get his hand all the way around the thick length, but the orc still made a soft noise of appreciation. Korik reached up and closed his fist around Varen’s hand, stroking himself with a faint, needy moan.

“It’s good,” Korik breathed, eyes closed now. “You feel—You feel—”

“I know,” Varen answered, as Korik stammered. “Keep touching yourself. I want to watch you come.”

Somehow, the flush in Korik’s face deepened. With some urging, he stroked himself in earnest, both his hand and Varen’s moving up and down the length of his cock in rapid strokes. Varen thrust his hips faster to match the pace, reveling in the noises Korik was making now, too lost in his pleasure to silence himself anymore. With his other hand, he palmed the orc’s balls again—squeezing and rolling the heavy sac with his fingers—until Korik was panting and moaning with each rapid, shuddering breath.

“I’m close,” Korik gasped, tightening around Varen’s length buried inside him. “I’m—I—”

He trailed off with a moan as he came. The thick vein on the underside of his cock pulsated and bucked against Varen’s hand, and his hole clenched hard around Varen’s cock. Thick ropes of come spurted up the length of his bare chest.

Varen couldn’t hold himself back. He gripped the orc’s hips and pounded into him, making him cry out in surprise and pleasure at the sudden change of pace. His hips slapped against Korik’s thighs, filling their den with the lewd sound, while Korik’s moans and gasps filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of the storm outside. He was so close, the orc felt so tight and hot and good around him—

He gasped and moaned wordlessly as he followed Korik over the edge, burying himself to the hilt as he came. Korik whimpered as Varen filled him with his spend, pushing it deeper with each long, languid thrust. He was covered in his own come and filled with Varen’s, entirely at the elf’s mercy—Varen bit down a moan at the thought. He couldn’t focus on anything but his own cock, and the sight of Korik completely undone beneath him.

When his cock had finally stopped twitching where it was buried inside the orc, Varen leaned back bonelessly with a deep, satisfied sigh. They were both plenty warm now.

Korik gasped as he slowly pulled free, a trickle of come dripping from his hole at the motion. His golden eyes followed Varen as he shuffled closer to the orc, exhausted, and laid down beside him.

“Still good?” he asked with a faint grin, looking through his eyelashes up at the orc. If he wanted to cuddle a bit afterward, well, it was just to keep them warm for longer, of course.

His heart squeezed at the faint smile that crossed Korik’s lips, curling around his tusks. “Still good.”