FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Jerom smiled as those red whiskers brushed up against his face, tickling his skin before breaking off the kiss. He looked happily yet quizzically at the man, wondering what he'd done to gain the sudden, though not unwanted attention from his lover. The two were in one of the darker alleys of the city, and though at first Jerom had thought that he was getting mugged by some criminal, he soon had found himself being reassured by those loving, violet eyes. Magically infused or not, they were one of the things Jerom loved about Brendan, and one of the first things that had attracted him from the beginning.

"So, I have a surprise for you," Brendan said, the two separating while he searched through his side-pouch.

"Oh? You mean another one?" Jerom mocked, to which Brendan rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean, dum-dum. Here."

Jerom gasped slightly upon seeing the silver locket, which took the shape of a sword and shield. The sword, a small emerald in its pommel, rested perfectly within the amethyst-encrusted shield, the two gems playing with what light was present in the alleyway with them.

"Where did you get that? It's beautiful!"

"Oh I saw it resting in the window of one of the newer shops here. It took some convincing, and a bit of gold, but I managed to get him to replace the gems with these ones here."

"This is for me?"

"Yes and no."

Grinning mischievously, Brendan held the locket so that the shield was between two of his fingers. Taking his other hand, he grabbed the hilt of the sword and gave a small tug. A small spark startled Jerom before he saw that the sword and shield were now separated, each with their own chain attached.

"The enchantment's my own making," Brendan added, beaming with pride at Jerom's look of amazement. "It's a promise trinket. You get one half while I get the other. That way, we're always there for each other no matter the distance, and no one has to be the wiser for it."

Speechless, Jerom took the half he was offered as Brendan placed the sword around his own neck. Placing the shield around his own, Jerom followed Brendan's lead as he tucked it underneath his armor. He was surprised at how warm it felt against his skin; more than likely another part of the enchantment. Leaning into another kiss, he felt as if another heart was beating against his, as if the armor wasn't a factor.

"Do you like your surprise?"

"I love it. I'll cherish it always."

*******

A noise jolted Jerom awake, causing him to grumble slightly. He wanted to stay in the dream, even as the good feelings he was having were slowly being replaced with an intense sadness. But as reality came more into focus, he glared in the direction of the source, a familiar face staring sheepishly back at him.

"Sorry for that," Garen replied, picking up a bowl he had knocked over. Luckily the flames had seemingly burned out a long while ago, the remnants cold. Jerom quickly realized room was clearer and brighter, which he attributed to one of the flaps above his head being open.

"You're fine. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep, tell you the truth. But why are you here? Where's Marcus?"

"Oh, so you did meet him!" Garen beamed, scratching nervously at his chin. "I was going to ask Marcus if he'd seen you, but then I saw you there and decided to let you sleep. But clumsy oaf I am, I woke you up anyway. Sorry about that, really."

"Why were you looking for me?" Jerom asked, quickly locating his loincloth next to the bed. So that's where it was. Jerom blushed as a few memories surged forward from earlier.

"I was supposed to give you this before you left," Garen said, handing Jerom a small bundle of cloth. "I was so preoccupied with getting you out and about that it skipped my mind until about halfway through me taking inventory of all the alchemical supplies. I didn't look at it, of course. Just the chief decided that it was something you could keep with you once we'd sorted through your belongings."

"My belongings?" Jerom asked. "So you know where my axe is then?"

"Yes, but you're not allowed weapons short of the sparring grounds anyway," Garen said. "And even then you'd need special permission from the quartermaster for that. But I'm getting sidetracked, here."

Jerom took the small bundle, holding it as if it was his own life within his hands. He had his hopes, but more than likely it was just the bit of gold he'd had on him. Perhaps he shouldn't...

"Is that all?" Jerom asked, wondering if there was another reason.

"No. Though I am glad to see you're taking so well to this... situation you're in. Not many human soldiers are so open so quickly about being here. I sometimes have to drag them out into the encampment because they try to hide in the corner and glare at me."

"Are there any other humans here now?"

"No. You're the first we've had here in a while."

"What happened to the others? Did you..."

"Kill them? Ha!" Garen laughed, crossing his arms. "No. Some of them might wish we had, sure, but they were all given the choice to leave after a while, once we felt they had paid off their debts to us. You have a lighter stay here, but some of those men were here for a few seasons because of what they did to us."

"I see," Jerom said, mulling over this new information. So it was a temporary thing, after all. And after a while he could just... leave? He breifly wondered what the harsher punishments had involved, but he decided it was best not to ask any more questions there. It didn't matter much to his current predicament.

"Well... thank you." Jerom said, raising the small bundle slightly in appreciation. Garen simply nodded, quickly turning to leave before hesitating.

"Yes?" Jerom asked, sensing the unasked question.

"I was just curious, and it's really none of my business, but... why don't you hate us? Almost every human that comes here does, to some extent or another. Yet the only hatred I've seen from you is when you weren't able to make a choice about it..."

"I figure there's enough hatred in the world," Jerom said, shrugging. "I've fought against your kind, and despite what the church says I always found your warriors to be honorable on the battlefield. And knowing what I know now, I'm even less inclined to hate who the church told me were 'godless heathens'. Especially now that they've excommunicated me in all but name. So it's less that I don't hate you, and more that I have no reason to even consider the notion. You haven't given me any reason to doubt that decision yet, at least."

Garen stood there for a bit, the toothiest smile he'd ever seen on an orc plastered all over his face.

"Thank you for that. Maybe the chief is right about humans, then. But I've taken enough of your time, Jerom. I'll leave you to it." And with that, Garen turned and left, leaving the man to his own thoughts once more.

Jerom sat there for a bit, waging a war inside. Part of him wanted to rip open the bundle and see what it was, but another part was afraid that he would be wrong, and that he would have to accept the loss. Surely there was no reason they'd let him keep that. But before he could come to a decision, his eyes wandered over to the piece of parchment nearby. As his eyes grazed the surface, words sprang up with a green glow, forming something he was able to read.

"Sorry for leaving you alone. Had to go and do some errands. Stew is on the stove, if you want more. Didn't want to wake you. Oh, and come by again if you like. Won't make the incense so strong next time. Marcus."

Jerom chuckled slightly at the letter. He found the terse sentences a bit charming, really. He could almost hear his gruff voice saying each word in his head, though whether that was true or not was up to debate. It was magic he'd seen before, but then not quite. The human version of the spell was a bit more flower than he liked, and usually left a loud ringing in his mind from that aspect of the spell. He'd had to read more than enough of those types of letters from men who either knew magic but were illiterate, or from superiors who simply didn't have the time or convenience of a quill. This was a bit gentler, thankfully, and much easier on his eyes.

"Guess I'm on my own again," Jerom said, sighing as he looked down at the bundle again. Since he didn't have a pouch with him, he simply decided to go with practicality and open the damn thing in one go. Gasping, he saw the locket on the fabric in his lap, causing tears to well up before he could fight them back down.

"I didn't think they would..." Jerom muttered, before hastily placing it around his neck. The metal slid past the chain collar and rested on his chest, remaining cold. It had been cold for a year now, but he was still glad to have it back. It was the only thing he had to remember Brendan by.

With a mixture of happiness and sadness in his heart, Jerom rose to his feet and put on his loincloth. He wondered if he could find some clothes that'd fit him, but then quickly discarded the thought. Most the men here were dressed much the same anyway, and nobody seemed to mind either way. Besides, it was the middle of summer, and he really didn't relish the thought wearing clothing that would just be soaked in sweat within the hour.

He also had to admit to himself that it felt good to be like this. He was so used to a uniform and armor that he had almost forgotten what his skin looked like underneath, and without the shame of his magical compulsion forcing him through so many human settlements, it was a bit refreshing to have it not matter in the slightest here. He wondered if it was just a cultural thing, or if it was just this encampment that caused the men to be more comfortable with each other like this. Maybe it was a bit of both. He'd have to ask Garen about it the next time he saw him, maybe.

"Well, I can't dawdle here all day," Jerom sighed, checking breifly to make sure he actually had all of his possessions, meager though they were. Smiling once more at the letter, he thought for a moment before placing it on the bed, to let Marcus know he had read it. Normally he'd have used magic, but he hadn't been able to access that in a long time now. He wouldn't have it again unless he came back to the priests and gained atonement, which wasn't likely to happen now that he'd failed his suicide mission. Even if he wanted to, though, he found the idea of kneeling before those snakes utterly repulsive.

Better a godly heathen than a lying priest, Jerom bitterly thought, leaving the shop and stepping out into the encampment once more. He was a bit surprised to find that it was less packed now, the frenetic pace having slowed down significantly. Looking up toward the sky, he was startled to realize it was evening already. Had he really spent half the day here already?

A crashing sound jostled Jerom out of his thoughts. His eyes quickly darted around before finding the source of the commotion. He expected a crowd to start forming around the two men arguing with each other, but none did. Maybe the others were just too busy, or they didn't care. Regardless, Jerom found himself moving through to the other side of the path.

As he finally managed to get close, one of the orcs - a guard, he supposed - simply shrugged and went back to his patrol, leaving the other fuming. Looking down, Jerom understood why; herbs and reagents weren't exactly his area of expertise, but that had to be at least a week's worth lying ruined amidst the wreckage of the broken box. Looking back to the orc, Jerom was surprised to see the slimmer frame that stood out against the others. While he still had a fair amount of muscle and was a good head taller than Jerom, he was smaller than most of the orcs Jerom was used to seeing on and off the battlefield. Instead of a longer beard on his face, his seemed to hug the jawline before ending in a small tuft of silver at the chin.

As he approached, Jerom couldn't understand a word of the orcish the other was vehemently spitting, though from his body language and temperament he was pretty sure it was all curses or insults. The orc was quickly picking through the bits and pieces of his box, seeing what was salvageable more than likely. Once in a while he would place an herb or a poultice of some sort into one of the many pouches he wore, all supported by some sort of harness strapped around his chest and waist. Yet, despite the tone, Jerom found himself tapping the man on the shoulder before he knew what he was doing.

Looking over his shoulder, the orc scowled a bit as he eyed Jerom up and down. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering if I could help. I saw what happened and..."

"No, I've got it! But..." the orc stopped, breathing in and out for a few moments before continuing. "But thank you for the offer, human. You the one they caught in the forest?"

"Yes, I am. Though I wasn't..."

"I know all about it. Magical compulsion, nasty bit of work. It's a wonder your priests are still considered holy with such an infernal spell like that at their disposal. So what did they get you for? Murder? Theft? Buggery?"

"Heresy, officially. Unofficially, I asked too many questions."

"Really?" the orc said, surprised as he stood up to face him. "I hadn't pegged you for the type. But no, you're telling the truth. You don't have that slack-jawed look that most you soldier types seem to have. No offense intended."

"None taken. What was that all about though, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Wasn't looking where he was going. Tried to blame me. Overall boring and uninteresting but all too common an occurrence for me. Still, he didn't ruin all of it, I suppose."

Leaning in to take a closer look at the human, the orc seemed to be lost in thought about something before grinning, almost lewdly to Jerom's eye. Though it was more than likely just his imagination, with how pent up he was. Jerom was suddenly all too aware of every body around him, including his own.

"If you still want to help," the orc said, "then maybe you could do something for me. By the way, the name's Zro'dun."

"Jerom. And what would this 'something' entail?" Jerom asked, wary of the other man's attention. He knew he couldn't be hurt with his collar on, but the orc put him on edge somehow.

"I need to test some potions to see how they affect a human. It's nothing dangerous, of course, but I can't really deal with the human merchants we get until I know for certain they work the way I say that they do."

"And how is that not dangerous?"

"Well," Zro'dun said, leaning a bit closer before placing a finger through a link of Jerom's collar, "you have this beauty. If any of my potions were going to do any damage, you wouldn't be able to drink it. I'd be shocked by it, even, as an 'intent to harm'. And while that is very painful, it's a risk I'm willing to endure. You would be safe, regardless."

"Oh. It does that?" Jerom asked, placing a hand on the greenish metal with a newfound admiration. If what he was saying was true, it meant he couldn't even be poisoned without someone knowing. No harm, indeed.

"Yes. Now, these potions aren't your typical ones. They take some of our own potions and attempt to put it into a dosage your human body can safely consume, which is why a merchant friend of mine is interested in them. Granted, I'll have to dilute them further still for the commercial value, but those are details are irrelevant to you."

"What would I get out of it? This is a bit more than 'help you gather up your belongings', after all."

Jerom felt himself pulled a bit closer to the orc, enough so that he could feel the heat coming from his body. Feeling a hand under his chin, he allowed himself to be guided into looking up at the man's face. He hadn't noticed before how rugged the orc was, having been too far away, but now the almost sultry look he was being given was enough to make him weak in the knees.

"That's up to you, really. I'm a very reasonable man. And you're no doubt curious about me already. I can see it in your handsome face."

Swallowing nervously, Jerom found his eyes were drawn to the orc's own darker red. He felt a calmness sweep over him, finding his head nodding almost of its own volition before the orc pulled away from him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Zro'dun looked down at him with a bit of a cocky grin.

"Well then, shall we? My tent is a bit out of the way. The hustle and bustle is a bit much for my studies, you see."

"Um... sure. Lead the way," Jerom replied, finding himself falling in step even before the words left his mouth.

*******

It was a long walk, but Jerom barely noticed it as Zro'dun pointed out certain tents and landmarks of the encampment. Any unease he had been feeling seemed to melt away, replaced with awe at the sheer size of the place. He'd had an idea it was large, sure, but with how many tents and people there were it felt more like a village or small town. He was definitely going to get lost more than a few times, even with Zro'dun's help in identifying what was where. He was also aware of how everything seemed to intermingle, from tents to paths to all the smells in the air.

Even as distracted as he was, it was obvious that the Zro'dun definitely found him attractive. If their initial encounter had left doubts in his mind, he found the orc's gaze would linger a bit too long on his own, that a touch here and there was a bit more tender. He didn't mind the attention though. He had to admit there was something alluring about the orc himself, so he wasn't surprised when he found himself wrapping his arm around the taller man's waist and leaning into him. Zro'dun seemed pleased at that as he placed his own arm around the human's shoulders, allowing Jerom a whiff of the spicy-sweet musk that seemed to emanate from his entire body. He wondered why that was, but figured maybe it was some sort of soap or cologne orcs used. He was at a loss as to what it could be otherwise, but it smelled very good. He was so distracted that he barely noticed Zro'dun opening a tent flap and guiding him inside. Pulling away from the embrace, Zro'dun stood before him and gave a mock bow, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Welcome to my abode, such as it is. Here, let me get that chair for you..." Jerom watched in awe as a simple gesture from Zro'dun brought a chair next to Jerom, glowing faintly with a red glow before the spell faded. Sitting down, Jerom looked quizzically up at Zro'dun.

"You're a mage?"

"I suppose that's what humans still call it, but I don't have a name for it anymore. I use and study magic because it fascinates me, but most of my talents are spent concocting potions and remedies for the soldiers here. I'm an alchemist before everything else."

"Still, you seem very talented using magic like that, and so effortlessly, too," Jerom mused, watching as the orc took of his harnesses and placed them near some sort of cabinet. In fact, Jerom found the tent to be a bit more decorated than Marcus', with bits of arcane-looking objects scattered here and there among hefty tomes and empty bottles. Even as messy as it seemed, it had a certain charm to it.

"With time comes practice and experience," Zro'dun said, shrugging it off as if it was something simple. "And besides, orcs have more of a tendency for magic than humans do. Some of the older gits even accuse you humans of stealing it from us, once upon a time. I don't know if I believe that part, but I can't deny that we possess a natural affinity for it, even if a lot of our tribes have chosen to either forget or leave it to shamans."

"What's so different here, then?"

"Our chief, Baal'gron. He not only encourages we learn and use magic, but he's a bit of a magic user himself. Not a shaman, though," Zro'dun added, quick to correct. "Shamans are more medically inclined in our tribes, while what he does is more for general or martial use."

"I hadn't realized orcs were like that. Shit... sorry," Jerom said, blushing at his statement.

"Don't be. I'm surprised you humans even know we exist at this point. Your theocracy is loaded with all sorts of propaganda to make us look like the savages they want us to be. Unfortunately, some of the younger tribes believe that, too. A bit of a step back, if you ask me, but then I'm not a chieftan."

"I think it's fascinating."

"Do you now?" Zro'dun asked, taking a vial from a nearby stand. "Then you're going to love this. Do you know what this does?"

"Not in the slightest. Should I?"

Zro'dun gave another cocky grin before taking out the stopper. Placing it under Jerom's nose, he beckoned the human to smell the orange liquid. Wary, Jerom inhaled just a little bit... and was hit hard with a sudden jolt of energy to all of his muscles.

"What in the bloody hell," he muttered, before his eyes popped open a bit wider. He found himself smiling as power coursed through his veins, small though it was. "By the gods, this is fantastic!"

"It's an orcish strength potion, and if you think that's amazing then just remember this is a highly diluted substance. The actual potion would make your heart explode. Now, for the test taste... are you ready?"

Jerom nodded, still a bit nervous. But what Zro'dun had said earlier about his collar helped to put his mind more at ease as the orc brought the vial down to his mouth, tracing his lips teasingly before tipping his head back slightly. Waiting a bit, Zro'dun sighed in relief as Jerom opened his mouth and drank the potion.

"Well, no shocks," Zro'dun said, stepping back to observe. It took a few moments, but Jerom was soon seized with a burning sensation in his muscles. It was surprising how much more powerful the potion was now that he had swallowed it, but he found himself standing up as a powerful urge to flex took over. He felt good as strength flowed through him, his veins beginning to pop and bulge. He barely noticed when his muscles began to pulse, growing with every pump of his heart until his muscles had almost doubled in size and strength.

"Do you like it?" Zro'dun said, tracing the muscles of the still-growing human. He would be a wall of muscle in a few moments, but it seemed Jerom hadn't noticed much beyond the sensations he was feeling.

"Yes!" Jerom enthusiastically shouted. "I mean, yes. Sorry, but this just feels too good. I feel like I could wrestle ten orcs right now."

"That's good to hear. It's temporary, of course, since it's a potion. But with any luck you might retain some of that growth when it wears off. That's part of the appeal I want to portray with it in the official product once it's ready for your kind. It won't be much of course, but you'll notice it once you return to normal. Ready for another?"

Jerom nodded, now keenly aware of his new muscle size. Flexing an arm, he continued to stare at the bulging bicep rise and fall until Zro'dun opened another vial. This one was more of a light green.

"What's this one?" Jerom asked, causing Zro'dun to give him a lewd smile.

"Stamina and virility. Care to try?"

Jerom blushed a bit as he wrapped his lips around the vial and downed it. It had more of a creamy texture, with a sweeter aftertaste than he was expecting. It tasted a bit like mint, now that he thought about it.

"Tastes good. When does it ohhhh..." Jerom moaned slightly, feeling a sudden stirring in his loins. Curious, he stripped off his loincloth to get a better look, having to bend over to see past his chest a bit. While he also began feeling like he could run for miles and miles now, he was more transfixed by how his cock had already reached it's erect eight inches and was still growing, both in length and girth.

"This one lasts for a few hours instead of a day," Zro'dun said, pressing up from behind as he wrapped his arms around the human's waist. Giving his shaft a play squeeze, Jerom moaned slightly as he leaned backward, feeling Zro'duns own impressive length against his backside.

"This is a potion? Humans don't have this... mmm..." Jerom said, biting off yet another moan as Zro'dun teased his length with his fingers. "Wow..."

"As I said, we orcs have some potions you humans would die to get their hands on. Still, the effect is a bit more than I was expecting. I may have to dilute it a bit further than this... though judging by how delicious you look, I may need to keep a few of this type handy for my own personal use."

"You mean for... other humans?" Jerom asked, gasping as he felt one of his nipples being tweaked. It sent a bolt of pure pleasure down to his groin, causing it to jump in excitement.

"Yes. I tend to prefer your kind to mine when it comes to a bit of fun. But there's plenty time for that later, if you want it," Zro'dun said, walking within view again as he went for another vial. Jerom hadn't quite noticed before, but the way Zro'dun walked was very sensual, his muscles rippling with every step, his ass swaying back and forth invitingly. Jerom found himself reaching out a bit before stopping himself, trying to clear his head of all the lust building up inside him. But with how big his cock was now, it was turning into a losing battle as he gave himself another squeeze. But as hard and horny as he was feeling, he didn't even feel close to cumming. He felt he could go for a good, long fuck.

Jerom was so wrapped up in his feelings of pleasure that he didn't notice another vial being placed against his lips. He instinctively swallowed the red liquid, noting a certain spiciness to it, almost like cinnamon. He briefly wondered if he should be mixing so many potions together at once like this, but he found he didn't care as another jolt of energy surged through him. Feeling nothing change, he began to ask Zro'dun when he found himself staring into those amazing eyes of his. He felt as if he could lose himself in them as he drew in for a kiss, wrapping his burly arms around the orc's waist and pulling him into him. He didn't know why, but it felt absolutely right to him as he felt a newfound adoration for the orc in front of him.

"I know you don't care to ask now, but this potion helps you find others more attractive," Zro'dun said, stroking the back of Jerom's head. "But only for those you already find attractive. In your case, men. Though you're a bit different in that, aren't you, Jerom?"

"What do you mean, love?" Jerom found himself saying, unable to tear his gaze from the orc.

"I mean that you find orc men, specifically, to be far more attractive. You wouldn't be this enamored otherwise..." Zro'dun chuckled, biting Jerom's lip teasingly. "I expected you to just be more open to... well, me. I wasn't expecting this much of a reaction from you."

"I feel fine, Zro'dun," Jerom said, resting his forehead against the other's. "But I feel a bit foolish for not acting on my feelings sooner."

"Oh, is that so?" Zro'dun said, flashing his signature cocky grin. It caused Jerom's heart to beat faster. How had he not noticed how sexy this man was before? How kind, and patient...

"I know it's a potion," Jerom said, smiling in spite of his attempt to be rational, "but I haven't felt this way in such a long, long time. It almost feels like I've known you forever..."

"I know what you mean," Zro'dun said, guiding Jerom to his bed, which was little more than a pile of furs on the ground. "Though I'll have to dilute that one far more than I had originally planned. It's been affecting me, too."

"How?" "The same way I use this potion as a cologne, though always in small doses. Except that in this case, it's in you and not on you. And it seems to be radiating from you, when it shouldn't be, and it's just... making you smell absolutely wonderful, Jerom. It's driving me wild, and I love it."

For a while, the two said nothing as they lay next to each other, enjoying each others' presence more than anything. A small part of Jerom felt like he should be concerned, but he also knew the potion had only enhanced what he was feeling. Hadn't it? Between the muscle, the lust, and the romantic look Zro'dun was giving him, it was hard to think about anything else. After all his pain, suffering, despair, loss... the rational part of him gave way as he chose to lose himself in the moment and experience bliss. To forget it all, even for one moment.

"Are you sure you want this?" Zro'dun said, a slight look of concern on his face as Jerom drew him close, their bodies pressing tightly together as they looked into each others' eyes. If the orc still had some amount of resistance, it was quickly fading. "I want this moment to last forever. I want you, my love."

"It won't last forever, Jerom. It will wear off eventually. We could wait it out and..." "Shut up and kiss me, fool," Jerom whispered, cutting off the weak protest. Needing no other prompt, Zro'dun guided the human's lips to his, being mindful of his sharp tusks even as the two gave way to passion.

*******

Pleasure coursed through Jerom as he moaned, which only encouraged the man on top of him to go faster as he bounced up and down on Jerom's lap. They could feel each others' heartbeats speed up even despite the fact their chests weren't touching, the magic of the necklaces causing every sensation to be that much more sensitive and enjoyable. Taking in the sight of Brendan riding him, his muscles glistening with sweat, his face twisted up in pure pleasure... it finally pushed Jerom over the edge as he gave a final thrust, his cock pumping load after load as his balls emptied. Moaning loudly, Brendan came all over Jerom's torso, though not nearly as much as he found himself being filled with. Exhausted, Brendan collapsed onto Jerom, the two taking time to catch their breath.

"...Wow," Jerom finally managed to say. He had not been expecting the intensity he had just experienced, thanks in part due to the trinkets they wore.

"...Yeah."

They spent a few more moments before Brendan slowly eased himself off of Jerom, walking over to the nearby basin. Cupping some water in one hand, he brought a finger to his chin and smirked as his eyes glowed with violet light. The water seemed not only to multiply, but to take on a life of its own as it spread quickly across his body, cleaning him in moments where it would take a normal person an hour in the bath. As the water, now dirty, reached his other hand, it boiled itself off into a vapor without any heat, the steam seeming to cease to exist along with the filth it had collected.

"Some day you're going to have to teach me that," Jerom said, standing up out of bed as Brendan collected some more water, this time with both hands. As Jerom took his place at the mirror, Brendan slowly began kneading his muscles with the magic water, giving a massage even as he cleaned his body.

"True, but then what would you need me for?" Brendan replied, smirking.

"Oh, yes, your magical cleaning is just so sexy. Wouldn't want the allure to fade," Jerom sassed, chuckling.

"Well, in all seriousness," Brendan sighed, enjoying his lover's physique, "it's a bit difficult to do without infusion. Though not impossible. And I know how you feel about infusion."

"Yeah..." Jerom grunted, feeling his muscles loosen up under Brendan's ministrations. "I've thought about it, don't get me wrong. I just... don't think I'm ready for that sort of commitment."

"It is definitely an investment," Brendan said, biting off the resentment that had seeped into his tone. "I don't regret it. It's made me more powerful. Lets me do things I normally couldn't, with just a thought. And it did help me save you, so that's a plus."

"But you'd think you were a dog, with how they leash you. All those oaths... and binding ones, at that."

"True."

Neither one said it, but they both knew that outside of the city, Brendan would be highly supervised, his magic use regulated down to the second in case he found a loophole. Mana infusion granted power; even if power wasn't jealously guarded by the priesthood or veterans of their order, this particular form of it carried risks as it drew one's soul closer to the source of all magic, allowing a keen understanding no one else could possess. And that was if their soul wasn't ripped from their bodies in the powerful current of mana, effectively killing them. It was a dangerous practice, but it produced results in those that survived. One infused soldier could turn the tide of an entire battle.

"Did you take your elixer yet?" Jerom asked as Brendan finished cleaning him.

"Yes. I should be good for the month. Assuming they managed to measure it out correctly this time."

Jerom shuddered, remembering the last time. Brendan had to take an elixer to prevent his soul from joining the source proper, and he'd been short-changed the last time he'd been given his dose. Someone had been lax in their duties, and half the infused had suffered from the shortage the dullard had unwittingly caused. A terrifying thing, to watch the love of your life begin to waste away... Choking back tears, Jerom sighed as he turned his mind to more pleasant things as he retrieved his clothing from where they'd been haphazardly tossed about the room.

"Do you think it's a promotion?"

"What was that?" asked Brendan, already placing his armor on.

"I was wondering if maybe you were going to be promoted, or something," Jerom said, stumbling over his words. "You know, because of your meeting..."

"You mean with the Knight-Captain? Oh, I have no idea. He simply said I was to report to him during the evening rotation, alone. He looked a bit surlier than usual, but hopefully I don't have to deal with some bandit raid or something other 'horrible thing gone wrong'. It's always so taxing having to deal with those sorts of problems."

Jerom hugged Brendan from behind. Instead of being caught by surprise, he relaxed into the hug, allowing Jerom to rest his head on one of his shoulders.

"Everything is going to be fine," Jerom reassured. "You're the best and brightest out of us lot. Anyone with eyes can see that. You'll be fine."

Brendan turned his his so that he was staring directly into Jerom's eyes. A moment passed before he cocked a grin, perfectly framed by his well-kept beard. The two didn't need words to understand what the other was feeling. Jerom wished this moment could last forever; even during his darkest moment, Brendan always seemed to know how to make things right again, like a light for his path.

"I have to get back to it," Brendan said, giving Jerom a quick peck on the lips before sliding his helmet down onto his head. "How do I look?"

"Not a hair out of place," Jerom replied, giving Brendan a once over. "Go on; I'll make sure everything here is orderly before I leave."

Walking to the oaken door, Brendan hesitated as his hand hovered over the metal rung. Looking back one last time, he smiled again, though it didn't reach his eyes this time, as if sad to leave.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Brendan sighed, looking Jerom over before focusing on his eyes. "It's just... I love you. So much. You know that, yes?"

"I know," Jerom replied, almost reverently. "I love you, too. I always have, and I always will."

Brendan nodded, seeming to draw strength from his reply. After what seemed an eternity and a half, Brendan broke eye contact, quickly moving out of the room before shutting the door gently behind himself. Jerom, alone with his thoughts, suddenly found himself feeling very worried. The look Brendan had given him, and what he'd said. No, it was the way he'd said it... was something actually wrong? Shaking his head, Jerom berated himself for being silly. Everthing was fine. He just needed to clean things up here, and then no one would know. He needed to... he needed...

*******

"Brendan!" Jerom nearly yelled, jolting himself awake. Sitting himself up, it took him a few moments to remember where he was, the memories of the previous night filtering slowly through his head. By the gods, had he really done all that? No wonder he was feeling sore.

"Bad dream?"

Looking over toward the voice, Jerom could see Zro'dun sitting on a stool, sipping what looked like tea from a clay mug with one hand while holding his head with the other. His body wrapped up in what looked like some sort of robe, though only half of his torso was covered. The orc had allowed himself to pull his arm through just one of the sleeves. Jerom was quickly taken aback by just how intricately designed the garment was; the background was a soft silver, but a splash of red here and there seemed to indicate flowers or blood... it was difficult to tell which, at times. It seemed to depict both a battlefield and a garden.

"A kimono," Zro'dun said, answering the unspoken question. "It's made from a material called silk, and it comes from a very far away place in this world. A friend of mine allowed me to keep it, back when I was still... well, when I dealt with human magi more regularly, anyway. But that's neither here nor there. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Jerom muttered, stretching a bit. "And no, it wasn't a bad dream. For the most part."

"You shouted. But, I won't pry if you don't wish to share. But come here and let me take a look at you. I need to determine a few things about your well-being."

Blushing, Jerom quickly located his only garment before standing beside the orc. Taking one last sip, the alchemist place his tea on a nearby surface before standing. Rubbing his hands together, a deep red energy began to pulse and glow from them. Breathing into them, the orc opened his eyes to reveal his eyes glowing the same color. The color of his eyes.

"This might feel strange," Zro'dun warned, before placing his hands on Jerom's temples. "Just... try to relax. It won't take long."

Jerom tried to follow the advice, but a million different questions seemed to race through his mind. This was quickly replaced by an uncomfortable buzzing throughout his entire body, increasing in speed and intensity. Just before it began to feel as if his entire body was waking up from being completely numb, the energy faded and Jerom found himself grounded again.

"Well, other than some muscle retention and a possible increase in your libido for the next few days, I would say that you've come out of this just fine. Healthier than you were before the potions, even. That's... interesting. I'll have to see if a combination of those potions have an unintended side effect or..."

Holding his head again, he closed his eyes as he sat down again. Taking his tea, he took a few sips before sighing into his mug.

"How are you feeling?" Jerom asked, concerned at how different the orc was behaving today.

"A headache, mostly. No doubt from that love potion's strange side effect," the orc softly replied. "As if I'd had far too much mead. No need for concern, it will pass. That is the physical aspect. Emotionally, I find myself a bit tangled up at the moment."

"I'm sorry if..."

"No," Zro'dun said, cutting him off quickly. "It's not a bad feeling, not really. It has just been an incredibly long time since I've felt anything close to last night, Jerom. Not your fault at all. I just didn't realize how much I'd been neglecting that aspect of myself. Someone like me tends to get wrapped up in his work, ignoring other needs and wants and desires. I may take a break from all this, for a while. Figure a few things out. What about you?"

"It's been a while for me, as well," Jerom sighed. "It seems a bit silly now that I'm not love-drunk from that potion, but... all the same, I had missed feeling that way. I didn't realize how much until now."

"Brendan. I see," Zro'dun muttered, as if confirming something to himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to say that out loud."

"It's fine," whispered Jerom, touching his necklace almost absent-mindedly. "It's just been a long time since I had to think about him. He was the love of my life, you know?"

"I see," Zro'dun said, his face softening. "If I had known that potion would affect you like this, I would have reconsidered using it. Or perhaps taken far more precautions. Or..."

Zro'dun grunted in surprised as Jerom guided his face to his in a quick kiss. Pulling away, the orc looked up at the human in confusion.

"I'm okay. Really, I am. Better than I was, in fact."

"How so?"

"Well," Jerom said, blushing slightly, "you showed me love wasn't gone for me. I know it was a potion gone wrong but... it just enhances things, right? It doesn't create them."

"I know some alchemists who try to create something from nothing, but none have succeeded so far," chuckled Zro'dun. "But yes, my potions only enhance aspects in a person."

"Thank you, then. For the past year I've been so full of hatred and bitterness over Brendan's death. I forgot I needed to love, too. He'd want me to move on with my life instead of being alone and bitter. He'd probably make fun of me for it, actually," Jerom laughed. "I'll never stop missing him, of course. But, I think I'm done with grief and vitriol, thanks to you. I feel as if a weight's been lifted from me."

"I... um. You're welcome, then," Zro'dun sputtered, taken aback. He'd thought the man would be at least partly resentful of how out of control things had gotten last night. But he was grateful? The orc smiled, confused but still glad some good had come from his mistake with the formula. He was still going to need to dilute it though. It was far too powerful still. But... that could wait.

"Oh, you're leaving?" asked Zro'dun, seeing Jerom move to the entrance.

"I was thinking I'd see if I could find some way to work my muscles. Especially with the new growth. Thank you for that, by the way. It feels wonderful, but I need to see what my new limits are before I accidentally break something. Unless you needed me for something else?"

"...No," the orc hesitated, finding himself torn. He didn't want him to leave, but he couldn't keep him here either. "I was actually wondering if you wanted something to cover yourself up with. Or maybe some breakfast, if you're feeling peckish. It's no trouble, really."

"I'm not hungry at the moment, but I'll find something later if I need it. But... what have you got in the way of garments? I suppose I could take a look."

Wasting no time, Zro'dun dug into the corner of his tent, placing aside books and reagents until he found an old, beat up knapsack. Taking it from its place, he held it to his chest for a moment, his eyes closed as he smiled.

"This was once very dear to me. It would mean the world to me for you to have it," Zro'dun said, opening his eyes again. Walking over to Jerom, he gently placed it into the human's arms, resisting the urge to draw him close to himself. Why was he feeling like this, still? He mentally chastised himself as he cleared his head with a deep sigh.

"Thank you," Jerom said, unsure of what else to say. "What's inside it? It feels heavy."

"Some travelling clothes that no longer fit me, a lantern... other travel supplies. I forget exactly what. It's been, oh, eight months since I last rummaged through it? I find myself not needing to travel alone these days. Besides, it's a bit small for me, now. You'll get better use out of it while you're here, I'd wager. Better than carrying everything in your arms wherever you go, yes? You don't exactly have pockets. Or a tent of your own."

"I'll make good use of it, then. I promise. Thank you for the gift."

Zro'dun smiled as Jerom took a few moments to look through the knapsack, sorting through the contents to see what he could use. A few bits of clothing here, some basic healing potions, a small pouch of gold... Jerom found himself wondering just how small Zro'dun had been eight months ago, if this was the knapsack's current contents. And why ignore the gold? Jerom tried to return anything valuable he found as he continued, but Zro'dun wouldn't have it. Everything inside was his for the taking, it seemed. Taking a few articles of clothing, Jerom tested the fit of the weathered travelling clothes. They were a bit tight, it seemed, but he could make them work.

"Here," chucked Zro'dun, a quick spark of red flashing between his hand and Jerom. Before he could protest, he found his clothes rearranging themselves slightly to better fit him. What would have taken a tailor a great amount of time and effort to repair was mended instantly. It was as if he'd just bought the entire outfit. A quick inventory of the knapsack and he found that the spare change of clothes had undergone the same change. And with so little effort, too...

"You're infused, aren't you."

"Was it the color?" asked Zro'dun, smiling. "Knew I was showing off too much."

"Oh I'm not mad... just surprised. I didn't know orcs could be infused with mana. But then, I didn't know a lot about orcs and magic until yesterday, either."

"You're right to be surprised, however. Infusion is very rare with orcs. But also very different."

"How so?" asked Jerom, shouldering the knapsack.

"We don't wither, for one," Zro'dun said. "And we achieve it through ritual, not elixer or spell. It's easier for our spirits to draw close to the source, but also more dangerous; some of us go feral, or worse, become monsters as we allow mana to reshape our bodies. Though that particular affliction is rare, thankfully. The most a human has to worry about is death, from what I hear. It's not natural for your kind to be infused, so that's why you need a monthly elixer. Orcs achieve a more balanced state between body and soul, so our own mana tends to regulate itself better. It just... becomes part of us, while for humans it's always apart from you. It gets complicated after that, so that's about all I can tell you without getting entirely absorbed in my own lecture."

"We wouldn't want that," chuckled Jerom. "Brendan was infused, too. Made his eyes the most brilliant shade of violet. That's how I know what to look for. Thank you for the explanation."

"No problem," Zro'dun said, closing one eye in pain as he opened the tent flap, the daylight pouring in unabashedly. "Now go on, you've lingered enough here. You have a camp to explore, people to spar with. But feel free to visit me anytime."

Zro'dun found himself wrapped in a farewell hug from Jerom, causing him to wrap his arms around the man as he breathed in his scent. It ended too quickly for his liking, but he wasn't about to keep the man here, choosing instead to focus on clearing his own head as he watched Jerom disappear out into the crowd.

"What is wrong with me..." he muttered, sitting down to enjoy the rest of his tea. He was definitely going to have to take some time to sort everything out, now. The alchemy could wait for a while. He was ahead of schedule, after all. A realization caused him to nearly spit out his tea slamming the clay cup down onto one of his many tomes as he fought the urge to choke on the liquid before swallowing it.

"Violet?!"