Captured By the Orc Ch. 21

Chapter 21: The Gift

As Dalthu carried him out the back gates of the village, Samson tried to distract himself from the very muscular and very naked chest he was pressed up against. He peered out over Dalthu's arms. Even though he didn't have the excellent night vision the orcs had, Samson could still make out the impressive outline of the mountain standing guard over the orc village.

"What do you call that there? That mountain?"

"Gruumsh." Dalthu's deep voice rumbled pleasantly and, despite himself, Samson leaned in closer.

"Gruumsh?"

"The One-Eyed Father."

"So, Gruumsh is the mountain and your father," Samson mumbled, working it out slowly, "and Luthic is the cave and also your mother?"

A cool wind blew against them and Dalthu hugged Samson closer. "Gruumsh is like the mountain. Erect and virile. While the cave is our mother's womb. These two gave birth to the first orcs."

And now humans give birth to the rest.

Samson rubbed his lower belly, thinking again about the mark. It was like a brand. With it, anyone could conceive with an orc. Even a man.

What must it feel like?

He recalled when his mother had been pregnant with his brother. Samson had always considered her the most beautiful woman in the world, but, during her pregnancy, she had glowed like an Aasimon warrior. She had been delicate, magical, and terrifying all at once. Samson had always jumped at the opportunity to rub her feet when she was tired. For him, it was a privilege. He would kneel at her feet like a supplicant in worship while sneaking looks at her belly. She must have noticed his glances because she asked if he wanted to feel the baby. Samson remembered how his small hands had trembled as she guided them along her stomach. Then... he felt it. A ripple. Samson had jerked his hand away, afraid that he had done something wrong. His mother's musical laughter erased his worries. "Your little brother is anxious to meet you," she'd said.

Would a child of Dalthu's and mine be anxious to meet me too?

An unexpected warmth flooded his lower body.

Shit. Not now.

He clenched his thighs together, resisting the urge to touch himself. Samson cursed under his breath. He should have finished earlier with the egg toy. It was getting harder and harder to reign his libido in. Samson squirmed in the orc's arms and the coarse fabric of his tunic rubbed against his nipples.

Any longer and I might end up asking Dalthu for help.

Another bolt of desire shot through him. Samson shook his head, brushing his face against Dalthu's bare chest. The warrior's smell reminded Samson of tending his family's herb garden back home. A heady aroma that made him dizzy with lust. The orc's arms twitched around him.

Shit.

He'd been unconsciously nuzzling his captor. Samson jerked away, nearly launching himself out of Dalthu's arms. "Let me down! I can walk! Set me down!"

"Easy," Dalthu said, setting Samson on his feet. "It's just as well, we've arrived."

Samson turned. There in front of him was a small cabin. Dalthu opened the door and Samson gasped. Inside, a basin had been carved into the smooth rock foundation and was filled with steaming water. It was a hot spring. An indoor hot spring. Samson ran over to the side of the bath and looked into the bubbling swirls of water. A waft of steam brought the delightful scent of lavender.

The bath salts!

"How?" Samson spun to face Dalthu, who watched him from the doorway. "Why?"

"You enjoyed the communal bath so much," the golden-eyed warrior rubbed his hands anxiously, "and Shakil described how happy you were finding the salts... you have no idea how I envied him seeing you like that."

He remembered.

"I found the spring during a forage," Dalthu continued, watching him from the doorway, "and built the kasol on top. That is the how. As for the why--"

"Wait, you made this? For me?"

"Do you like it?"

Samson exhaled. "I love it."

"Then that is the why," the orc smiled.

Ba-thump.

Samson placed a hand over his heart, worrying it was so loud Dalthu might hear it. "You're serious? It's mine?"

"Mother says I am hopeless at jokes," Dalthu said, dryly. "But yes, this place is yours."

Samson laughed in amazement and spun around.

Not even the wealthiest lords have instant access to hot springs. They have to travel, sometimes for days, and here I am, poor farmer, with one in my own backyard. And it's all mine!

Samson continued to turn in place, admiring the structure and daydreaming about all the different salts and soaps he would try, when he noticed that Dalthu still hadn't stepped inside. Samson stopped spinning. "Aren't you coming in?"

"This is a place where you can go to be alone, so," Dalthu cleared his throat. "Unless invited, no one may enter."

"No one? Even--"

The orc warrior nodded. "Unless you invite me in or you are in danger, I will not enter."

"Really?" Samson raised a suspicious eyebrow, but Dalthu planted his feet as if to demonstrate his resolve. "Interesting..."

Let's test that, shall we?

Samson turned his back to Dalthu and then, slowly and deliberately, peeled his tunic off. The buttery fabric pooled at his feet as a strangled groan sounded behind him. Samson grinned.

This could be fun.

He sashayed over to the bathtub and then, making a show of looking over all the bottles and jars set out around the edge, bent waaaaaay over.

BANG!

Samson yelped and spun around, expecting to see an orc charging into the room. However, contrary to his expectations, the big lug was still outside. The banging sound had been from Dalthu slamming his head against the door frame.

"I'm not made of stone, little tiger," the orc growled. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

A nervous giggle bubbled up in Samson's throat. He knew he was playing with fire, but it felt good to finally be the one in control. "Perhaps," he shrugged coyly. "Now be a good orc and don't interrupt my bath time."

While his orc captor muttered obscenities, Samson once again turned his attention to the glorious bath in front of him. He dipped a toe into the water and the warmth that surrounded his toes sent a shiver up his body. Samson lowered himself in and the cold night air disappeared.

It feels like being wrapped in lambswool.

Samson selected one of the soaps arranged around the edge of the basin and began to wash. As he scrubbed and dipped his head beneath the waters, the world around him faded away. It was pure luxury. As a farmer, he could only have dreamed about experiencing such finery.

Funny, I never imagined my dream would include a horny green monster.

Samson glanced toward the door. Dalthu was still there, watching him intently, and... sporting an enormous erection. Samson looked away quickly. The mark on his lower belly tingled and Samson shifted in the water, trying to keep his own arousal in check. Samson tried to think of something to say, anything that would break the silent tension growing thick in the bathhouse. "The other mates said--I mean, I heard that newly mated orcs are insatiable. That going without, um, you know, is torture. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"What... what does it feel like?"

Dalthu's answer was immediate. "It feels like I'm stranded in the nine hells and my body is filled with an endless thirst." The wood creaked as the orc's grip against the doorframe tightened. "It is suffering that does not leave me for a single second."

Samson was stunned. "I didn't realize it was so painful."

"If it was only pain I could endure it," the orc laughed bitterly. He looked up at Samson, gold eyes flashing. "When I look at you, little tiger, a heat overwhelms me and threatens my very sanity."

Was that why he distanced himself?

"When you didn't come back I thought--I mean, I started to believe you were finding release with someone else--"

"Never!" Samson flinched and Dalthu lowered his voice, but the anxiety in it remained. "Never. I may be bull-headed--"

"And arrogant."

"Yes--"

"And moody."

"Yes, yes," Dalthu huffed. "I am all those things but never unfaithful. Samson, I swear on the goddess and all I hold dear, I will never betray you."

And yet...

A small pang of guilt burned in his chest as Samson thought about his plan to escape. He gnawed his lower lip. "I... I guess I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing. It is I who owes you."

Don't.

"I'm sorry, Samson."

Don't do that.

"I'm so sorry."

Please stop. Because if you don't, I might actually forgive you.

Samson sank back down into the bath until he was up to his chin. He didn't trust himself to keep looking into Dalthu's doleful eyes. "You don't have to keep saying it."

"I do. It was not how I wanted our first time to be." The orc's gentle voice floated through the hut and melted Samson's resolve.

"Well... how did you want it?"

Dalthu gave a rueful laugh. "I'd like to show you, little tiger."

There was a pause. Then...

"You're letting all the heat out," Samson murmured. "Come in, and shut the door."

A moment passed in silence. Then, when realization sank in, there was a clatter as Dalthu scrambled inside and closed the door and then a flutter as the orc warrior stripped out of his loincloth. Samson averted his gaze as Dalthu stepped into the bath, but he saw the ripples in the water as the orc came closer and closer.

"Samson?" A soft voice, gently beckoned Samson to look up.

The orc warrior's eyes shone in the dim room like fiery beacons, and Samson felt as if at any moment the water, the basin, even the mountain itself that held him might vanish and he would tumble head-first into those golden pools. He could only hold himself to the earth by watching emerald lips ask him:

"May I kiss you?"

Samson felt a flutter inside as Dalthu, his hands shaking, cupped Samson's chin in his hand. Their eyes locked together, their lips only a breath apart... then Dalthu leaned in.

Their lips brushed together and Samson's body exalted. It cried out, "This! This is what we desired!" Dalthu pulled away and Samson stifled a whine of disappointment.

The orc's breath was uneven. "Please... Please, can I keep going?"

The ability to speak had abandoned Samson and he nodded his head quickly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry--" Dalthu's apologies were silenced as Samson flung his arms around the orc's neck and pressed his lips hard against him, nearly knocking him backward. Recovering quickly, Dalthu wound his fingers through Samson's hair. Matching Samson's enthusiasm, the golden-eyed warrior coaxed Samson's mouth open and slid his tongue skillfully against him. Samson moaned, deepening their connection.

His lips are so soft and the way he moves his tongue...

The orc warrior pulled back. "That's pretty bad, little tiger," he chuckled. "You look wrecked just from kissing me."

A small whine escaped Samson's throat.

It's not enough.

"Yes, yes," Dalthu's lips tickled Samson's skin as he moved down Samson's jawline to his neck. He nibbled the sensitive skin there, leaving little red marks, before kissing his way down to Samson's chest. "I know. It's all my fault, but don't worry. I will take responsibility."

The orc gave Samson's nipple one quick chaste kiss before opening wide and swirling the tip of his tongue around it. Samson threw his head back. The orc's hands continued to caress his skin, rubbing him sensuously, before pinching one of his pert nipples. Samson sucked in a breath but did not move or attempt to stop him. Dalthu pinched harder. The nub flushed a darker red as he squeezed the blood to the tip. Samson clenched his teeth as Dalthu's fingers dug into him, holding back a moan as the delicate morsel was twisted.

Dalthu slipped his hand down the flat plane of Samson's stomach until his fingers were tangled in his bush. He allowed his fingers to play with the silky strands, twisting and pulling them. Samson bucked his hips and Dalthu took advantage, gripping his ass cheek tightly, which sent Samson's hips scrambling forward again towards the hand playing with his pubis.

The golden-eyed warrior lifted Samson up out of the bath and plopped him onto the edge of the basin. "Spread your legs."

Samson swallowed. He was being thoroughly manhandled. Trembling, Samson leaned back and spread himself wide.

"This," Dalthu slid his body between Samson's legs, pushing them even further open, "is how you look in my dreams."

Samson covered his face in embarrassment. His body was betraying the effect his captor was having on him. Dalthu began to tease the tip of Samson's erection, with one hand rubbing up and down his wet cock slit and the other sliding down to fondle his sack. Samson's hips moved back and forth as the smell of sex, lavender, and mint mixed together.

"So good... so beautiful," Dalthu rasped, looking up at Samson as he stroked his dick. The orc warrior's mouth was so close to him, Samson could feel his hot breath against his shaft. Sweat began to run down Samson's body as the steaming water of the bath and rapid movement of his hips against the skillful fingers began to overheat his body. His hips gyrated in rhythm, rolling left and right. Something was building inside of him.

"Dalthu," Samson panted. "Please--"

"Please what?" Dalthu whispered, and Samson's cock twitched, brushing against the orc's lips.

"Please... let me come."

Samson grabbed onto the rim of the bath just in time. Dalthu dove between his legs and took Samson's whole length into his mouth. His body spasmed upward as he reveled in the immediate warmth and sensation of his cockhead rubbing the roof of the orc's mouth. Samson moaned as he weaved his greedy hands through the orc's damp hair.

Dalthu's lips made a ring around the shaft and sucked wantonly, making lewd noises. Samson felt his cock pulse once, and then his world went white. He threw his head back and screamed out in ecstasy as he writhed, humping the orc's face with desperate abandon until his body finally gave up.

Dalthu pulled his head away from Samson with a soft pop. Samson looked down between his trembling limbs at his orc captor. Perspiration clung to his well-defined muscles, and his cock was shamelessly displayed. The dim candlelight of the bathhouse caught the edges of his silhouette, making the orc shimmer like the water's surface.

How beautiful.

"Argh!" Samson clutched his stomach. The brief moment of relief he'd felt was gone as a wave of heat erupted within him. The arousal he'd felt before was nothing compared to the overwhelming lust that spiked through his body and made him feel weak. The mark on his belly tingled like pins and needles, demanding attention.

What's happening to me?

"Samson?" Dalthu was already on his feet, hovering over Samson in concern.

This can't happen.

Dalthu touched Samson's forehead, and Samson couldn't resist the urge to push his head into the palm just to feel Dalthu's skin.

It mustn't happen... right?

"What's wrong, little tiger?"

With a burst of strength, Samson grabbed the orc's hand. "I want more."

To be continued...