Do Gronn Have Hearts?

Dama Stormheart cursed her midnight black, solid bone hooves as she stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a stoney wall within the cavern. She never thought she would curse such a vital, familiar part of her form, yet they did not serve her well in this particular situation. Despite her attempts to move with stealth (as much stealth as any being seven feet tall and well past 300 pounds, likely closer to 500 encased within the enchanted chain mail armor that shrouded her), her hooves could only be so silent against the hard rock of the cavern floor.

She was lucky though. A late season rain had filled the canyon outside, soaking and softening the ground near the entrance of the cavern, making her late night approach go unnoticed. However, the front of the cavern was half blocked by a massive stone which created an unnatural hill, blocking the flow of water from the canyon. She drew her great tauren body tighter up against the wall as she scooted, slid, nearly slithered inward. Her hands darted to the buckles and clasps with held her armor to her, tightening them to make them quieter as she moved.

Her caution was most certainly called for. For on this night, deep in the ominous wild of the Blade's Edge Mountains, she was traversing into the lair of a cyclopian gronn known as Gruul the Dragonkiller. Most would never consider making such a journey alone, much less in a large group. Yet Dama knew she had to walk alone ... her reasons were deeply her own, never to be understood or believed by others, even by her dearest friends.

The air cooled as she fully entered the cavern, icy wisps of air managing to penetrate the links in her armor, jabbing through the fur that kept her from shivering in this atmosphere. Her hard blue eyes squinted against the torchlight as she approached a bend in the cave. She was not truly unfamiliar with this place ... a mere month before, she and the guild that she swore herself to had staged a frenzied raid on this primordial citadel. As she squinted, images of the present briefly meshed with images of the past. They had slain the powerful ogre tribes which guarded the Dragonkiller, going so far as to annihililate the grotesquely mutated ogre king known as Maulgar, through which which Gruul handed down his merciless dogma over the lesser ogre tribes who lived in the brutal mountains.

She was stunned as the past melted back to the present. There were a few scattered patrols of single ogres, pulled from the canyon outside to guard Gruul. They were easily avoided in the murky-dark shadows of the caverns. Never once did she let her guard down, never once did she waste any motion. She kept her breathing slow, soft, never lost control of herself.

She rounded another curve in the cavern, just past the ramshackle throneroom where Maulgar had sat, and was forced to quickly swallow back a gasp. In the craggy hallway that led the Gruul's very inner sanctum, the stood a pair of fairly massive ogre warriors, and further down, just within the archway that led into Gruul's main hall, a group of 3 seemingly larger ogres.

She slipped behind a nearby massive boulder before any could take note of her in the shadows. Curses swirled in her mind and pushed hard against her clenched teeth. How could she ever expected to have snuck into such a deadly place. There was no way she could ever make it past such massive, deadly ogres. The shadows were not dense enough to hide her along the sides, she would most undoubtedly be seen.

A sudden detail which had escaped her first looks availed itself to her. The middle ogre amid the trio farther down, had a small ball, which appeared to be made of pure water, swirling around his horridly obese midsection. Dama immediately recognized it as a water shield, a very typical shamanistic spell. Indeed, there were rare ogres who could channel elemental magics in such ways.

Her thoughts spun and an idea quickly came into focus. The pair of warriors nearer to her had their backs to the trio further down. Dama nearly crawled through the dark shadow, trying to stay away from the glow of the torches along the wall. There was a rocky outcropping which she was able to wedge herself behind, positioning herself neatly behind the first pair, out of line of sight of the trio.

She softly breathed words to the spirits, and a blue sparkle at her fingertips grew to a pair of small maelstroms swirling around her hands. The ball of lightning left her hands as she ducked down, hoping that these ogres were every bit as dumb as all the other ogres she had ever met.

A powerful electric explosion gave way to a loud, grotesque sizzle and the smell of melting flesh. The ogre warrior pitched forward, falling to one knee. With a roar he stood and spun, and to Dama's delight, the first thing he saw was the ogre shaman. A snarling jibberish sounded from him as he charged the shaman, and the two began brawling in the hall. The rest of the ogres, likely bored, quickly circled around to watch the fracus. The distraction was thorough, perfect. Dama dashed through the low light swiftly, trying her damnednest not to make much noise. In seconds, she was fully within Gruul's personal sanctuary, ducking behind a massive stone near the back of the room.

There he sat, legs crossed, one hand stroking his bony, pointed chin. He seemed to be in deep consternation over something, completely oblivious to the battle outside his lair. As Dama watched him in this infinitely calm state, her mind immediately dragged her back to a month before.

The guild had not been prepared for the fury of this beast. He tore into them, and nearly ripped them all to shreds. Thankfully, they suffered no casualties, but many were severely injured. Some had to abandon favored armaments in order to get out alive, or to carry a comrade too injured to stand. Dama's ear's still ached from tinnitus caused by one of the Dragonkiller's explosive roars.

She lifted her magical helm from her head, reaching back to undo her dark hair, letting it spill onto her brawny shoulders. This thing had hurt and nearly killed her and her friends. Yet beneath it's rage ... the voice ... it did not scream with hate. Had he enchanted her? She couldn't understand this attraction, this want for this monster.

And yet she felt there was a common, needy man beneath the bestial wrath. Just as there was plain, needy woman beneath the heroism and armor which Dama was so well known for.

"I must know," she whispered to herself. Her hands reached up, unhooking the heavy spaulders from her shoulders. A few inches below were the clasps and buckles of her mail chestpiece, undone as well, exposing the creamy white fur, spotted dense black here and there, freeing her full, heavy breasts. Another quick motion of her hands, and to the floor fell the kilt, exposing thickly muscled legs and the wide delicious curve of her hips, the same white fur sheathing them down to her mighty hooves.

She stood out of the shadows, bare but for the tabard of her beloved guild. The air was drafty and cold here, biting the flesh beneath her white and black coat. She may as well be naked, for in this state, nothing protected her but her dense tauren hide. A distant voice of self preservation pleaded her to turn back as she moved toward Gruul. It shrunk to a whisper as she beheld him fully.

His skin was a furious red color, slightly darker in some areas, apparent scars from the untold infinity of battles he had fought in his long existance. Every inch of his body was densely muscled, he looked as if he were made of jagged stone rather than flesh. Indeed, his massive, nearly deformed shoulders and upper back were covered in sharp bony spikes, surrounded by a tangled tuft of hair that seemed to travel to the middle of his back. Her eyes slid down him body, stopping for a moment at the tattered loincloth strapped to his waist. To either side of the loincloth, rather large, crimson spheres sat heavily upon the floor. She nearly gasped when she realized she was looking upon the cyclop's great testicles, not quite covered by the cloth.

A pang of guilt struck her for leering at this monster in such a way, and she swung her eyes swiftly upward ... and nearly fell upon her rear when they met the bloodshot, single gaze of Gruul. His hands slapped the floor loudly as he pushed himself to full height, a good 20 or so feet tall, towering over her like one of the legendary totems of her people. She grinded her hooves hard into the ground and her fists clenched tight her sides. She would not show fear ... that wasn't the point of her being here. And yet her stomach twisted tight. She was afraid. But she was resolute and refused to let him see her fright.

"Lone tauren," he said in that voice, that dense, earth shaking baritone. "Why do you stand naked before Gruul?"

She quivered from head to toe involuntarily. "My heart ... brings me here. Some emotion, deeper than anything I have ever felt."

His lone eye widened. "Emotion? Heart?! What trickery is this?!" He trampled forward and slammed both hands flat upon the ground at either side of her, the impact nearly loosening her from her stubborn stance. He leaned down and forward, his furious eye not more than a foot from her icy blues. "You come here defenseless!? Do you know who I am, and what I do to those who invade my domicile so boldly?" She could feel the sonic force of his mighty voice against her.

"It doesn't make sense to me either ... but ... " She kept her eyes locked upon his now. She must let him see inside her, to her soul and what she was feeling. "When I hear the roars of battle from you ... I do not hear a spirit full of hatred ... I hear a spirit in agony, not fighting to live, not fighting for glory, or gain ... but fighting to die. And ... something about you ... I don't want to see you die. Something inside me ... wants to be one with you."

Gruul's lone eye widened and his nostrils flared furiously. She may very well had been staring her maker in the eye in that moment. And yet he rose to full height again, staring down at her. His cheek twitched, and for the briefest instant, she swore she saw his lower lip quiver. His eye closed as he turned away from her.

"I apologize ... I do not want to stir more pain in you," she said softly, never letting her gaze leave him.

He waved a great hand, cutting her off. His eye opened and he looked up slightly. He seemed to no longer be staring at the inside of the cave. She could sense spirits of the past welling inside of his massive form.

"You ... are not incorrect. I suppose it does not help ... you remind me of one from long ago." He went silent, and once again, Dama swore she saw his lower lip quiver. She took a step forward.

"By the spirits," she thought. The intensity of emotion coming from him made her muscles knot up. She had never in her life sensed such emotional anguish, not even within herself.

"A draenei ... bold she was ...," he began again, his deep tenor slow, soft (as soft as his towering voice could be). "Pale, dark violet flesh ... tall, like you. Stalwart, always. In the fields of the forests above ... she came to me ... generations ago. Naked, as you are."

Dama touched a quivering hand to his thigh. His skin was hot, and he glanced back down to her. His bloodshot eye seemed to be wet with tears. "She ... offered herself to me. A mighty woman of the spirits. I took her as mine, and me as hers, that very day." His chest swelled then deflated with a loud, sad sigh. Now Dama's eyes ached with tears. "She ... birthed my seven sons. Together ... we would overtake Draenor ... and she would be at my side, my queen, my lover ..." His voice broke. "She ... her body was pushed too far ... she died, upon birthing my seventh son."

"By the Mother ... I am sorry ... "

"I didn't care after that. What is a king ... all the lands, all the conquests ... what is he without his queen, to hold and to love, night in, night out?"

Dama reached up and stroked his stomach gently, her other hand still rubbing his thigh. Her body was in near agony, her empathy her worst enemy in the face of such pain.

"I know loneliness ... I know that pit of despair ... my days of heroism ... making my name across distant lands ... so many allies, so many friends ... so many commendations, rewards ... and yet ... I sleep alone, when I do sleep. It can never fill that void." She finally broke her gaze with him, her eyes closing tightly as she gulped down a sob welling in her throat.

One of Gruul's large fingers slid beneath her chin and pressed upward demandingly. Her eyes opened again, tear stained, but still trying so very hard to stay strong and resolute as they locked onto his eye.

"You come here ... wanting to fill my void, and wanting to fill yours as well. Do you truly believe that you have the strength and fortitude to love a gronn?"

"Why else would I come here?" she asked him, somewhat matter of factly.

All the preparation in the world could not have readied her for the next instant. The gronn's great hand swung around, bracing her back in his palm as he leaned down, and in one swift, aggressive motion, thrust his serpent of tongue into her maw. Her tongue attempted to wrestle against the wet, smoldering heat of his, but was thoroughly overwhelmed. A new emotion boiled into him, his frenzied kiss acting as a conduit for Dama to thoroughly feel and experience it. He needed her, and she didn't resist. Her hands caressed the rough skin of his cheeks as his tongue swirled and slithered in her mouth like a trapped animal.

Finally he broke away, his tongue unfurling from within her muzzle and pulling back into his mouth. Dama panted wildly, sucking air back into her lungs. Lust dizzied her senses as she looked up. Gruul's mouth was slack, panting as well.

"You ... accepted me ... you took me ... didn't push against me."

"I wouldn't dare. I haven't been kissed like that in ages." She lifted her tabard from her body and let it flutter away from her grip. Her heavy breasts now swayed free, exposed to the cold air. Her womanhood seem to the glow in the low light, a warm honey glistening, clinging to the lips and and fur between her legs.

"Then I shall give you more!" Gruul's hand suddenly swelled against her back, as did his entire form. She was lifted slightly, and reclined against his palm as the tip of his tongue sampled her neck and throat. A fierce rumble made his tongue shake against her, a throaty moan betraying just how much lust blazed inside him. The two fingertips of his other hand pressed lightly to the tender pink flesh of her nipples. His tongue seemed to swell even more, and her fingers dug hard into his cheeks as she suckled hard at this hot, thrashing flesh that seemed determine to fill her.

His rough, calloused fingertips circled over the rapidly swelling flesh of her nipples. At last Gruul's tongue left her, allowing to breath, to gasp, to moan freely.

"I have never held or tasted a tauren like this ... " he whispered to her. Dear Goddess, that voice, the earthy baritone ... the lust and want for her was so thick she could practically taste it. His tongue, as long and dense as her arm now, slithered like a lusty serpent over her breasts, sampling the soft, fleshy orbs with the utmost delight. His lips pressed to her stomach in a long, passionate kiss. His palms slid beneath her buttocks and lifted her more.

"A fine rump you have ... creamy breasts ... everything ... so soft and yet strong." His lips were between her legs now, kissing her pussy. His eye watched her face as her mouth went slack. Her breathing caught in her throat, she could barely even moan as his sucking lips refused to leave her core. Something parted the soft petals of her very center ... his tongue was insatiable! The tip darted back and forth fast, pushing barely deeper each time, not too deep.

A scream finally forced itself out of her lungs, so hard that her chest and throat burned in pain. Her fingers clawed at his forehead, she cried pleadingly to him.

"More ... more ... don't leave me at the edge!" she thought feverishly, unable to give voice to her words. He grew yet again, she could feel herself being lifted higher, his hands broadening beneath her. His darting tongue moved faster in response to her hips grinding against his lips. Her desire was boiling, her blood was practically molten with this lustful high he was driving her to. His tongue suddenly slowed, but it was moving inward, deeper and deeper, thrashing about violently, stirring the sticky hot fluid inside her. She thrashed in time with it, arching her hips to him, the muscles of her legs knotting. The tight coil inside her was beginning to unwind.

At last she came. Oh, by the spirits all around her, she came. His tongue was soaked, drenched in her cum. Her eyes were tightly shut as an animalistic noise that couldn't even be described as a scream unfurled from deep within. Never had she felt this way. Her body felt like a living, breathing maelstrom, held in the powerful hands of this mighty gronn. His lips remained upon her till at last he had suckled his fill of her honey.

She felt herself slowly falling, till her back was upon the ground, which was curiously wet. She suddenly realized she was laying in small pool of her sweat and cum that had been dripping down. She was happy to relax for a moment, catch her breath. She heard a loud tearing sound, then the sound of the mighty cyclops standing again.

Upon opening her eyes, she first encountered the gronn's powerful thighs, like red granite pillars to either side of her. Those familiar crimson globes again, hanging barely a foot above her, each practically the size of a large pumpkin. A steely length of crimson flesh, oddly smooth compared to the rest of his skin, jutting straight out from his hips by nearly two feet. His eye was upon her with such intensity, pleading the same as her eyes had been a few moments before.

"Please ... let me feel your mouth, your tongue. Please ... let me feel you this way ... "

She couldn't even imagine denying that voice, that look. She could sense the same knot in his stomach as was in hers. It was the need, the urge to release, to share his pleasure with her. She sat up, one hand gliding across the smooth underside of his cock, the other tenderly hugging his heavy balls to her breasts, practically cuddling them like babes. Her hand was able to wrap a little more than halfway around his shaft, and with great care stroked him. She was gentle, slow, loving. She laid deep, lingering kisses from the base to the very crown, her other continuing to snuggle his balls lovingly to her soft breasts.

It jolted her each time his great orbs pressed to her nipples. They were still electric, her whole body was. She was determined now to give him the pleasure he had so passionately given her. Her hand clenched tighter to his quivering length, stroking him fully, aggressively. He must've been loving it, because he pitched forward to his knees, his powerful hands bracing against the ground as his testicles practically blanketed her hips, his cock coming to rest neatly across her torso. She laid beneath him, pulling his cock down, practically quaking now as thick ivory cream streamed forth, coating her neck and chin. Her tongue glided over the broad slit at the tip of his crown before her mouth narrowly managed to engulf his cockhead.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in this moment. Her senses were drowning in his loud, heavy-bass moans. His dense, musky cum kept flowing into her, soaking her tongue and lips, and she was aware of no other taste. He was everything to her in this moment, and she hugged his length to her chest tightly as she continued her fierce sucking at the tip. She was vaguely aware of his hands nearby, clenching, digging into the ground, grinding the stone to dust his hands. His hips moved, not even of his own accord, yet they thrust against her mouth, even though there was no way such a large member would fit any further. Yet she didn't relent.