The Warcheif and the Magus

Disclaimer: I do not own the game that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Orc Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, walked slowly through the halls of Orgrimmar, the concerns of his people still ringing in his ears even in the silent hallways. The new addition to his city had been one of their primary concerns, and already he was debating his own judgement and wisdom in ordering Orannis to "claim" the Night Elf. Half the people demanded her head, others simply wanted her gone, removed from Horde territory, and most questioned his decision to simply hand her over to his Shaman Master, some even going to far as to say his choice had been wrong. Faith in his leadership had never been so low, but he had his reasons, even if they could never be made public.

Reaching the doors of his suite, the Warchief nodded at his Honour Guard that flanked the entrance before entering, closing the door and beginning the long process of stripping off his ceremonial black plate, the Doomhammer heavy against his back.

It was as he unbuckled the bracers guarding his wrists that something struck him as wrong, and he paused, calling to the elements he mastered to aid him as he walked slowly to the centre of his disquiet, the bedchamber. Prowling in almost silence, Thrall leaned against the wall next to the door and pushed it open with his foot. Garnering no reaction and sensing no immediate danger, the Warchief risked a glance over the threshold, and almost dropped the Doomhammer in shock.

Sprawled across his bed in a debauched fashion lay Jaina Proudmoore, naked save for strategic positioning of long blonde hair, the crook of a thigh shielding her sex from his gaze, a smile dancing across her lips as she took in his surprise.

"I would have expected more of a welcome than silence, Thrall," She teased softly, shifting slightly into a more upright position, blue eyes never leaving his face. "It has been an age since we last saw each other."

The Orc growled in response, striding purposefully into the room. "I must admit, I am surprised the guard did not sense your presence." He paused at the foot of the bed, "And it has not been that long since we last met, Lady Proudmoore."

"So formal!" The Human woman replied, laughter colouring her words as she watched him still peruse her naked form. "Anyone would think you were unhappy to see me."

Green eyes met blue. "Not unhappy, merely confused." He admitted quietly. "Did you not say this... affair was over last time we met?" Moving to sit on the end of the bed, he continued quietly, "Or did I simply imagine it?"

"Words said in anger," Jaina admitted quietly, drawing her knees to her chin, suddenly ashamed of her nudity, "Always come back to haunt, do they not?" She paused, studying Thrall for a moment, "I will leave, if that is what you wish."

Shaking his head, the Warchief turned his gaze to the floor. "I do not wish you to leave Jaina," He began, "But, I cannot keep up with your ever-changing position on this."

She managed to suppress the entirely inappropriate giggle his words summoned. "I understand," Reaching out a hand, the blonde touched his shoulder, attempting to return his gaze to hers, "Thrall... I am sorry if I upset you before. There is no excuse for how I behaved, and I must admit, I was surprised to find your wards still allowed me entry when I teleported." Sighing deeply, she shifted position again, coming to sit next to her lover. "I made a massive error in judgement and have come to beg for forgiveness. I'll quite happily get on me knees if that is what you wish."

Thrall couldn't quite manage to stop the half-growl of arousal the image that suddenly danced across his vision had caused, and he stood, stepping away from the bed. Jaina sat back in confusion, looking up at his back until he turned, his eyes boring into hers.

"Make up your mind, Lady Proudmoore, once and for all," He demanded harshly, "I will not sit here and pine for you if that is what you are hoping for." The words were angrier than he intended, his mind distracted by the position she was now in, leaning back on her elbows, legs spread ever so slightly giving a glimpse of tantalising flesh, blonde hair fallen back over her shoulders so her breasts were now in plain view, so unintentionally open and inviting he had to fight the urge to simply claim her as he had so early in their tempestuous relationship. She still bore the scar of that encounter, the small, circular scars on her inner thigh caused by his lower canines puncturing the flesh during rough, heated sex in her tower.

As if reading his mind, Jaina spoke. "I let you claim me then, Thrall. I may fight it, but you and I are too bound for me to deny," She confessed quietly, "We both carry the weight of our worlds on our shoulders, and sometimes it will spill over into this one. All we can do is acknowledge the intrusion and deal with it." Rising, she slid her hands over his chest, the plate cold against her fingers, and then up into his short, dark hair, her body a hairs breadth from his, head tilted upward slightly to match his gaze. "Am I forgiven?"

Growling, Thrall hauled her body to his, ignoring her soft gasp of shock as the cold plate met her flesh, green eyes boring into hers. "Perhaps," He snarled, gloved hands tightening ever so slightly on her waist, "If you stop fighting me."

Her eyes widened. "I'm no submissive peon, Warchief," She replied, squirming in his grasp which only tightened his grip, causing her to narrow her gaze, laying her hands on his arms and channelling fire until the heat on the plate became almost unbearable and he released his hold on her, sending her tumbling back onto the bed.

To Jaina's surprise Thrall merely threw his head back and laughed, tugging at the buckles on his gloves and discarding them, before making quick work of the rest of his black plate until the green-skinned Orc was stood in front of her clad only in a thin linen shirt and leather pants. "Submissive?" He retorted, dragging the shirt over his head, "You?" Making quick work of the laces on his pants, then dragging them down his muscular thighs and kicking them away, "Never, Lady Proudmoore, dominance is bred into your soul."

Her face twisted into a snarl, "Well, if there ever was a finer example of rising above breeding it would be you," She shot back, trying to ignore his blatant arousal even as he strode toward her. "And as for fighting you... I thought you enjoyed it? The scars on your back say you do... however did you explain *that* to your people?"

By this point, Thrall was stood against the bed, between her spread legs, still staring into her eyes, anger still thundering through him. "I don't have to explain myself to them, they trust me, unlike certain people not a mile away from here."

"Well, no one tends to be *looking* at my thighs for me to have to explain myself to them!" She snapped even as he leaned down so that his face was an inch from hers, hands either side of her head. "At least I don't bite..."

Thrall smiled wickedly, "I don't recall you complaining..." He shifted slightly so his erection was pressed against her thigh, "In fact, I distinctly remember you screaming and..."

"By the Kirin Tor..." Jaina moaned, eyes sliding closed as the memory overwhelmed her, "Why are we fighting?"

"Because," He growled in low tones, "It turns you on." His mouth ghosted across her neck, "We always fight, you always try to burn me, and then we fuck and forgive each other," Biting her collarbone gently, he continued, "Personally, I would rather just go straight to the last part."

The blonde woman smiled, and Thrall kissed her slowly as her hands slid up into his hair, holding him close even as sparks exploded behind her eyes, the feel of him atop her a pleasant weight, until he groaned and broke off, breathing rapidly.

"Woman," He moaned, "You will be the death of me." Straightening his arms so he rose above her slightly, Thrall looked down at his lover, who was staring at him with dreamy eyes, shifting his position slightly so he rubbed against her, smiling when she arched and gasped in pleasure at his touch.

"Thrall..." She moaned softly, clutching at his arms, nails digging into his flesh leaving perfect half-moon impressions in his skin. "Heavens above, why aren't you, ohhh..." She broke off as he rubbed himself against her again, sparking pleasure across her senses and interrupting her train of thought.

"Why aren't I what?" He asked, sliding slowly down her body until he had come off the side of the bed and was kneeling, hands pulling her body so her legs slid over his shoulders and her hips were at the edge of the bed. Realisation dawned and the human woman moaned, long and low.

Thrall grinned wickedly again, inhaling her scent with satisfaction before lowering his mouth to press kisses up her thighs, tongue tracing the two small indents, listening to his lover gasp and moan softly, before reaching his goal, lapping at her sex, teasing around the small button until Jaina all but begged him to pleasure her, writhing in his grasp, trembling and pulse racing. Slowly, he dragged his tongue against her clit, and she screamed, begging him to do it again.

Chuckling under his breath, the Orc slowly slid a finger into her willing body as he licked her again; feeling her sex tremble around him caused his arousal to twitch in anticipation as his pace increased, flicking his tongue roughly against her, feeling her orgasm building he slid another green finger into her and she cried out in response, so close to the edge, her flesh fluttering around his fingers in an ever increasing pace until she dived over the precipice, screaming her pleasure so loud he thought the whole of Orgrimmar would hear it, shuddering against him.

He waited until her breathing had calmed and her trembling lessened to ease his fingers from her, standing slowly to drink in the sight of her, sated and smiling, blonde hair dishevelled and blue eyes smoky with satisfaction, air heavy with the scent of her pleasure.

"Thrall," She whispered quietly, staring at him.

"Yes?" He replied, licking the taste of her from his lips, still painfully aroused.

"Why aren't you fucking me?" Jaina asked softly, glancing at his erection and biting her lip.

Hands slid down her legs, gripping ankles gently then placing them on his shoulders, lining his thick cock up with her sex, rubbing teasingly against her wetness. "Whatever do you mean?" The Orc managed, the feel of her slippery flesh making it difficult to speak. "By... Orgim... Jaina..."

His will was breaking, control rapidly reaching burnout as he slid against her, causing her to whimper. Green eyes closed as he slowly slid inside, feeling her stretching slightly to accommodate him; he would never become accustomed to the fact he was always slightly too big for her, flesh tight around him as he thrust, gently at first, until something inside him snapped, roaring as he drove deep and hard inside her, pulling roughly on her hips as he rocked, pounding harshly, animalistically into her, intense pleasure shooting through him as he lost himself inside her, back arching as he filled her with his seed, her name on his lips.

Panting, he managed to withdraw before collapsing in a pile of tangled limbs on the bed next to her, drawing her close in the afterglow. "No more arguments Jaina," The Warchief said softly, holding the magus close to him.

"No more arguments," She agreed sleepily, nestling her head on his chest.

As sleep claimed the pair, neither sensed the spark of power that filled the room, the soft flare of magic that indicated a change in the future...