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The sun was shining, as it is wont to do, whatever the whims of the men beneath it. Although for Krystof it seemed like the sun was beaming down just for him. It was the fourth day and he always woke in a good mood on the fourth day. With a smile, the young human emerged from his home. A small cottage that sat upon a hill nearby to the town where he served as the blacksmith, just as his father had and his grandfather before him. His ancestors had been working iron in the Western plains of the Ameras Kingdom for so long that people often joked that dwarf blood flowed in their veins.

Although, no person looking at the man would think there was any dwarf in his ancestry. He was tall and broad, his arms rippling with the sort of muscle you get from beating iron all day until it submits to your will. His brown hair was long and flowing, a mane that cascaded down his shoulders. Rich brown, almost red eyes, like a maple leaf in the dead of autumn.

He stopped by the water butt outside his home and splashed some water on his face. The path down the hill was long and winding. In the wet and winter weather, it was a chore to walk. However, at the beginning of summer, even when the sun had just dipped over the horizon; it was a joyful journey. He sauntered as he strode, pausing by a small patch of bluebells. Picking a single flower. It was a ritual he always practised, a beautiful blue flower, blue to match the skies above him. It would be placed in the window of his forge, in a small jar of water. To remind him of the beauty outside, while he toiled inside.

A blacksmith’s work is never done. Though the hard work was well paid. Not just in coin but respect. His family not only owned the forge but some of the land around. Good fertile land, a meadow full of flowers and a small wood where many fruits and nuts grew wild. Many of those less fortunate foraged there, with Krystof’s blessing. It was not just his blessing, but as he would frequently tell the townspeople, it was his grandfather’s wish. The old man had been as generous a man as he had ever known. Grey hair, strong arms and a song never far from his lips.

Krystof had been but a child when he passed away and had only just become a man when he lost his parents. A terrible pox had come to the town and shortened many a life before it was beaten. His parents were buried in the small graveyard down by the temple. As a dutiful son, he visited them every seventh day. To bring them some flowers from their old home and to tell them news of the town. Kair was just a small town in the kingdom. Far away from the borders and the sea. The lands around it were good farmland, filled with good farmers. Good people, absolute salt of the earth.

Feeling his spirits rising as he neared the small wood, his family owned, he began to whistle. Krystof often bemoaned that he had not inherited his grandfather’s singing voice. He was not a bad whistler though, putting out a merry tune as he walked, flower in hand. The shadow of the forest fell over him, giving a slight chill to the morning hair. His leather boots were slightly chilled from the dew of the grass.

Above the sound of his whistling, the young blacksmith heard a stick crack. Pausing in both his stride and his tune he called out, “good morning, who is there?”

Movement caught his eye and stepping out of the forest path was a man. Not just a man, a mountain of a man. He towered over the young blacksmith, his muscles putting the human’s to shame. His eyes were as blue as his skin, his purple lips turned up and his white tusks peeked out. Dressed in just simple leather pants from the waist down. His broad muscled chest glistened with wetness, possibly the morning dew, possibly something else.

“Gor!” Krystof exclaimed, “is it not a glorious morning?”

The orc’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly purple, as his sudden appearance had almost no effect on the young human. Nodding his head slightly, he agreed that the morning was indeed very agreeable.

“We have a busy day ahead of us, my friend,” Krystof added, starting back on his walk. Gor fell in step beside him, saying little, he rarely did. While the town before them grew closer, they could see a few people out in the street. There was a wagon outside the tavern, and the two could see huge barrels of ale being rolled down off the back of the wagon. As they drew closer, Gor's steps slowed slightly and he fell in step behind Krystof.

Orcs walk behind. That was the way of things, it was the law. “They really should unharness the horse while they unload that wagon.” The young blacksmith observed. “If he takes a start those barrels of ale will go running down the street.”

Gor said nothing, but he nodded. Even though Krystof could not see it, he agreed silently. The two approached the forge where they worked. Krystof had the skills and knowledge, and Gor worked the bellows. He worked them longer and better than any human ever could. The days Gor worked the forge Krystof could tell the quality of his work improved. It was on days when the orc worked that he focussed on the more difficult projects. When it was just himself there was a never-ending string of mundane blacksmith tasks. Making horseshoes, fixing pots and pans, making nails; and a thousand other little jobs.

Opening up the workshop he stepped inside. The scent of coal, fire, leather, oil and iron hit his nose. “light up the forge please, my friend.” He instructed as he wedged the door open. A blacksmith’s door is rarely shut, even in the coldest depths of winter the heat from the forge kept them warm. Picking up the small glass vase that sat on his window, he filled it with water from the small water butt outside and then carefully placed the bluebell inside it and returned it to the window.

It would not be long before he had his first customers. As the only blacksmith in town, his services were ever in demand. The forge was aflame, and Gor was carefully piling the coals to spread the flame quickly. Even after just a few minutes, Krystof could feel the heat beginning to rise. He pulled his shirt off and hung it on a hook by the door. “Well, we have a busy day ahead of us. I want to work on the armour for Lord Calladan’s nephew. He comes of age in a couple of weeks and you know the dear Master of this town is a man of little patience. So I would prefer to be early on that and late on others if need be.”

The blue orc nodded his head and pointed to the pile of iron bars. Iron and fire: the raw materials that Krystof could turn into any range of wonderful and dreadful objects. “Yes, we’ll start with a chest-piece, good wrought iron to keep the young man safe.” Gor rolled his eyes slightly at the prospect of the spotty youth they had measured riding into battle and the blacksmith chuckled, “hey! I hear those lords and their state dinners can be vicious. He might need to fend off an angry Earl armed with a fish knife. Or a servant might spill some wine in his lap.”

Gor’s voice lifted up in a soft laugh. A rare but enjoyable sound from the orc. In the years he had worked for Krystof he rarely spoke in the forge. If a customer came in he would take their orders, but only if Krystof was too busy. However, he was not one for idle gossip or chatter. When he did speak or make any noise, Krystof knew he needed to pay attention. For the orc did not waste breath saying something that was not important.

Setting some of the iron to the fire, the human enjoyed watching it heat. “Good morning, Mr Smyth.” A voice announced, making Krystof jump a little. The tone was stuffy, and so nasally any man would believe it had come directly from someone's nose. Despite the anatomical impossibility. It was a voice they both recognised and had grown to dread.

At the doorway to the forge stood a man, short and stout, or portly at least. He wore a fine silk shirt and jacket. The shirt was all frills and curls. While around his neck he wore a golden chain and a locket. That identified him as the mayor and master of the town, appointed by the King. Or his great-great-great-great-great grandsire was appointed by the King. The blacksmith doubted that the current King would be able to identify the master of the town even if he stood right before him.

“Lord Calladan, you grace us with your presence.” The blacksmith replied bowing slightly and then he glanced at Gor. “Please put the kettle on, I am sure his lordship would like a cup of tea.”

“Thank you, most kindly,” the old gentleman muttered, keeping his eyes on Krystof. “I have a few matters to discuss with you.”

“Ah! The irons are in the coals, I will be working on your nephew’s gift today. I have already prepared his sword and shield. If your lordship would care to inspect.” Krystof said gesturing to where the sword and shield were hung carefully on the wall. “I have not yet finished sharpening the sword, but it is thrice forged of the finest iron we can make. It will be as strong a blade as any man carries, and my finest work next to the armour I will craft for him.”

“I have no doubt of Your skills,” Lord Calladan replied, his eyes glancing slightly towards Gor as he said the word your. “I came to speak on another matter, one which we should discuss in private.”

This was an unusual request and Krystof felt his guts tighten to hear he would be speaking with the lord alone. It had happened before and they had been unpleasant conversations, all of them. The young man sighed softly thinking of how his beautiful day was about to be marred and so early on. Though he knew there would be other things to make up for it later. “Of course, Gor, once you have poured the tea please can you wait outside and shut the door behind you.”

Gor nodded and he glanced the blacksmith in the eye. The orc’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he spotted the trick his employer was playing. A blacksmiths forge during the summer, with the door closed. It would soon be as hot as the underworld itself and with any luck, the heat would drive out the unpleasant old demon.

Topping his devious plan off by serving the Lord a hot drink, Krystof sat down at a small table by the window and gestured for the lord to follow. “So what can I do for you this fine day.”

“Mr Smyth, I have come to you many times on this topic…” inwardly Krystof groaned as the shape of the conversation was now as set as thrice forged cast iron. “... the heathens that reside up beyond the Smyth’s wood. Squatting on your land...”

“Begging your pardon, my Lord. However, you know they are not squatting. My grandfather gave them permission and it was his wish to not cast out those that have no other place to call home,” Krystof cut in as gently as he could. While he got to watch the old man reach into his pocket and pull out a handkerchief to dap over his brow. Behind them, the forge cracked and hissed, almost like it too wanted the man gone.

“Yes, he was a kind man. Too kind for his and the town’s own good. Much like our ancestors, we are now paying for their kindness,” grumbled the man as he picked up his cup and took a sip of piping hot tea. As if that would do anything to cool him down.

Krystof’s brow crinkled in honest confusion, “my Lord, what are you saying?”

“Have you not heard the news? There’s a rebellion brewing. Hundreds of those... those heathens are up in the mountains to the west. They have raised their filthy hands against the King and their betters,” the old man spat the words heathens and rebellion with such bile Krystof leant backwards in his chair a little. It was a shock, there had not been an uprising since before his grandfather’s day.

“What has that to do with those living on my land, those mountains are almost a hundred leagues from here?” The blacksmith asked carefully. He knew he was walking a fine line. Lord Calladan, as the master of the town, could make things very difficult for him, should he push too hard.

“These things tend to spread. You mark my words, we might all live to regret your grandfather’s charity to these… these creatures,” Lord Calladan dabbed his wet brow as the heat continued to rise.

“You speak as if charity was a bad thing, the priests at the temple teach us to open our hearts to those in need,” Krystof replied calmly and then he smiled. “Besides, many of them have jobs on the farms around these hills. It’s not too long before harvest time when the extra manpower is most essential. Plus a few even have jobs in town.”

“Yes, like your man there, what’s his name, Gort?” Snorted the lord with derision as if to emphasise what a great mistake he thought that hiring Gor had been. Krystof saw no reason to correct the mispronunciation of Gor’s name. The Master would not care and it would only provoke him further. “Could you have not found someone more suitable in town? Do you like working with someone like that, so closely and he never even has the shame to cover his chest? There are women around. I know in the fullness of your duties you have to join him, but really that is all it should be, at utmost need. Otherwise, we risk encouraging young women to… lower themselves.”

“Lord Calladan, my father used to say that when you become to know and trust some implicitly, you can’t help but like them,” the blacksmith replied calmly.” I trust my employee, I know my employee and he is a good hard worker. He has never so much as glanced at any woman in town. He comes, he stays in the forge all day. Save when your lordship asks him to leave. Without his service, I would struggle to meet the demands. With the poor bellows available in a small country forge, I could not reach the high temperatures I can when Gor works the bellows. There would be no finely wrought iron in this town. Not for you, me or anyone.”

For a moment he saw the lord glance over to the huge bellows that fanned the forge and made his craft possible. Krystof saw the greed in those eyes, having a blacksmith with such skills allowed him to crow over the lords whose men wore lesser armour. “I suppose you know your business best. However, if you could convince him to wear a shirt, I would be happier.”

“I will… see what I can do, my Lord,” Krystof replied with as much sincerity as he could put into his tone. It was not the first time he had made that empty promise and he suspected it would not be the last. It was what it took to get the unpleasant man out of his forge and he considered empty words a small price to pay.

Calladan mopped his glistening brow as the heat from the forge only continued to build. Even Krystof, who was used to the heat, was beginning to feel it. “I… there’s one more thing I wish to discuss. It is ah… a matter of some delicacy.”

This was new, he hoped the man was not about to ask for another suit of armour. They took time to make and smelting the iron to a high quality took a lot of time too. Krystof had a long list of jobs he would have to delay to produce something that fine. Or worse if he wanted something more delicate. Last year he had made Calladan’s wife a coronet and the delicate work had taken weeks of effort. “I will help however I may.”

“My daughter, Calista, has asked me for permission for the two of you to… walk out.” It was only through sheer luck that the Lord did not end up covered in tea, as Krystof managed to swallow and not spit the tea in his mouth out of sheer surprise. Calista was a bonny maiden, she visited often and he was polite enough to put on a shirt and talk with her. “I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

Krystof felt himself burning up in a way that was clearly nothing to do with the heat from the forge but from the deadly gaze, Lord Calladan was subjecting him to. Swallowing one last sip of tea the young man tried to think of what he was going to say. A direct no would no doubt not be welcome and yet from the tone he suspected a yes was a far more troublesome answer.

“Well, Lord Calladan, that is a great honour. Your daughter is as fair a maid as this village has ever seen or is likely to see,” Krystof squirmed as the man’s gaze seemed to bore right through him, “however, she is of noble birth and I am just a blacksmith. I am unworthy, it would not be appropriate for us to walk out together. I am sorry. Please let your daughter know that she has my utmost respect and friendship... at least as far as is proper.”

Lord Calladan gave a broad approving smile and his tone was far happier as he replied,” I do so agree, Mr Smyth. I will let her know of your choice. However, mayhap it would be good for you to start walking out with another maid soon, perhaps the baker’s daughter. I would be happy to talk to him on your behalf.”

Gulping once more Krystof knew the battle was not yet won, “maybe that would be unwise, Lord Calladan. If I were to start walking out with another maid so soon, she might think my words on her were dishonest and that might cause her upset. Which is something neither of us wants, I am sure. Further, if you were to broker the union she might fear that you had some hand in my response and I would never wish to cause a rift between father and daughter, least of all to you, My Lord.”

Nodding his acceptance, Lord Calladan got to his feet, “you are perhaps correct there. Mr Smyth. However, I suspect I have taken up enough of your time and in truth, I feel the need for a breath of air. How you manage to spend all day in here, and with an orc as well, I will never know.”

“Your Lordship is always welcome,” Krystof was a naturally honest person. However, a lie so transparent could be considered to not be a lie at all, so it did not bother his conscience.

The stout man paused in the doorway and gave Krystof an unusual look, “you are a good man, Mr Smyth. Wise too, to not get aspirations above your station.” Then he opened the door and a huge waft of fresh air flooded in, washing away a tiny fraction of the heat and a good portion of the discomfort from the conversation. As soon as the Lord left a blue mountain blocked the light in the doorway as Gor returned.

“I… could use another cup of tea,” Krystof announced as he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Gor stared at him for a moment and then picked up the small kettle. His eyebrows raised slightly and Krystof caught the unuttered question. “It was the usual, but with a surprise request at the end. It seems Calista asked her father if she could walk out with me.” The blue orc’s body very slightly stiffened and he turned away from the kettle, his eyebrow raised again. “I politely declined. Which he was grateful for, he did not want a blacksmith for a son-in-law.”

“Man’s a fool,” observed the orc, then placed the kettle on the side of the forge.”

“Indeed, but you should be careful of saying so.” The blacksmith agreed. Shrugging his shoulders he added, “he could be worse. Many Lords are less tolerant of those born below them.” Krystof muttered, he also knew that in the realms of powerful men Lord Calladan was a tiny minnow in an ocean filled with sharks. For a moment he had a little pity in his heart for the tiny fish trying to swim with the sharks. However, Gor soon drew his attention back with a hot cup of tea.

“Thank you, my friend. One good drink and then we shall get started, a little late but you will get home before sundown,” he reassured the blue orc. Gor had an elder brother who often worried about him. For good reason, human towns were safe for humans only. Though the guards of their town, Kair, were familiar with Gor and knew he was employed. In their years of working together, there had never been an issue.

For the next few hours, the two worked hard. People passing by could hear the constant sound of hammer against metal, and the great roars as Gor pumped air into the forage forcing it to burn hotter and faster. Every so often the two would emerge, their bodies glistening in the sun as rivers of sweat poured down their well-sculpted forms. Water from the butt would be thrown over their heads and their thirsts were quenched. Then they would return to the heat of the forge, that moisture drying up rapidly.

A giant hiss and a puff of steam coming out the door was a less frequent sound. However, passers-by knew that it signified the end of one bit of work and the start of the next. On the stand behind them, a metal frame of a man was coming together. The measurements were exact, the leather straps and buckles would be added later. Gor would also polish it up, buffing a good shine into the metal until it gleamed.

By the end of the day, an entire suit of armour had been crafted. Though Krystof knew it was but the first stage. The iron had been beaten into a rough shape and cooled. There would be many days more of slowly moulding the armour into the perfect shape. Many small imperfections would come face to face with his hammer and he would defeat those foes, without mercy.

The sun was drawing lower in the sky by the time they both emerged fully. Krystof dressed in his light hempen shirt. Gor still in nothing but simple leather britches. “Oh, Gor, fetch that bundle of furs, would you? I might do some stitching this evening.” The blacksmith asked loudly and pointing, the orc nodded and retrieved a bundle of furs that were bound by the door of the forge. The pair made for the path home, Gor walking carefully behind Krystof, his eyes down low. Krystof exchanged many a nod and hello with the townspeople as they walked.

As usual, the path out of the town was empty, save for them and as they turned the corner on the hill, blocking out all sight. Gor moved to walk side by side. Neither one speaking, Krystof stripped off his shirt. He often did on the way home, he wore it to avoid offending those in town, but as soon as he was free his parched skin cried out for the cool air. After a day of the forge’s heat, it deserved to breathe some.

They reached a small fork in the path, one way leading home and the other leading into Smyth’s Wood. Glancing back and around, Krystof took the path leading into the wood, “I think I could use a little shade.” He said, giving Gor a slightly pointed look.

The wood was not particularly big, just a mile and a half long and roughly the same wide. A person could not get lost inside, walk for more than half an hour in a straight line and you would emerge from inside. Through the middle of the wood ran the small dirt path, which continued on up the hill, up to the meadows and the small ramshackle town where Gor lived.

Inside the wood, it was calm, the air still and cool. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, giving it a vibrant green glow. While forest flowers bloomed all along the path. The forest smelled alive, the soft dank mustiness of the leaf mould, and the sounds of birdsong. Sometimes the rustle of creatures as they scuttled to hide from the two men.

Walking side by side they reached the centre of the forest and, Gor took a turn. Krystof followed as they left the path. No longer was the going simple, as they had to push their way through the underbrush. Dodging brambles and trying not to stumble. Neither one spoke, they just kept moving.

They found a tiny stream, no more than a trickle of water a handbreadth in width and turned to follow it. Until the forest canopy parted and a small freshwater pool lay before them. It was them that Gor finally struck. A soft thump hit Krystof’s ears as the furs the orc had carried were dropped. He had only half turned before strong hands grasped his torso. He was tossed as if he weighed no more than a leaf, up against a tree. The rough bark scratched his skin. While purple lips were pressed roughly against his.

The two moaned and gasped, the human’s hands cupping the orc’s face as they kissed passionately. Their tongues danced together as they let go of all pretence and reservation. Krystof groaned at the feel of Gor’s tucks, lightly scratching either side of his nose. It tickled in the most wonderful way. While the orc’s strong hands stroked over his well-toned body and down to his flaxen pants.

Krystof thrust up into those wandering hands. His erection burning and yearning for Gor’s touch as the rest of him had ached for it all day long. While his own hands gently stroked down the orc’s shoulders, letting his fingers trace around those muscles formed through orc genes and years of hard work. He groaned deeply as his lust grew by the second. Gor’s fingers circled around his aching length still trapped inside his flaxen pants.

Gor broke the kiss with a lust-filled smile, “are you sure you don’t want to go back, tell Lord Calladan you want to walk out with his daughter?” The orc asked with a chuckle, pressing his face against the human’s neck his tusks and teeth grazing the skin and making Krystof cry out in pleasure. He loved the wild nature of his orc partner, and yet he knew that under any wildness there lay a true and beautifully generous heart.

“I… am very sure,” he gasped in return, his head spinning slightly as his body tingled at the multiple sensations. His hands slipped down to the firm bulge in the orc’s leather pants. He knew the size of the beast beneath and how strong the stitching was in the leather to hold it at bay. Krystof's own animalistic instincts were taking control of his actions. “Calista is a fine woman, but she is no match for you.”

His free hand slipped up and interwove his fingers in the orc’s wiry hair, holding him against the nape of his neck. “Besides, she definitely doesn’t have one of these…” as he spoke his fingers squeezed down firmly on the orc’s throbbing length and he felt Gor’s hips thrust on pure instinct.

“Ah, is that why you come here?” Chuckled the orc, before running his broad tongue up the human’s neck and nibbling eagerly on his earlobe.

“By the gods…. It’s one of the many reasons,” Krystof moaned and then he pushed Gor back a step. An impressive feat of strength for any human in most circumstances. However, Krystof knew what he wanted and it was trapped in leather a couple of feet lower down. He slipped to his knees, the ground cool and slightly damp, soaking his pants. It mattered not to the young blacksmith, he had his eyes set on his desire.

Trembling eager hands began to untie the laces that held the orc’s leather pants closed. Gor did not speak, he just watched as Krystof fumbled with those laces. Glancing upwards, the human could not help but blush deeply watching those eyes, filled with lust and confidence. The orc knew what he wanted, and Krystof was showing just how badly he wanted it. It had been a full week since the last time they had dared to steal some time together. If the people of the town found out things would go ill for both of them.

With a cry of triumph, Krystof unfastened the last knot. The pressure inside the leather was enough that as soon as the knot was loose, the flies stretched out. Krystof’s eyes shone as the leather slipped down and the thick root of Gor’s meat slid into view. His eager trembling hands pulled those pants down and he moaned in satisfaction as the thick meat popped free. Watching it bob and sway almost hypnotically before his eyes.

However, Krystof was only able to hold back for a few seconds. Before his hand grasped the thick meat at its base and his lips kissed the tip. The sweat and grime of the day gave it a strong musky and bitter taste. Opening his mouth he sucked firmly on the cocktip, rolling his tongue over the glans, cleaning the sweat of the day off. The musky favour faded a little, becoming slightly metallic, almost like the iron they worked every day had worked its way into the orc’s blood and body. He sucked on that thick rod hungrily pressing his mouth forward.

From experience, he knew he could not fit the full length inside his mouth. Yet, he could not stop himself from trying, pressing closer and closer to the wild untamed undergrowth surrounding the blue rod. One hand squeezed and jerked on the base of Gor’s cock. While the other fondled the heavy set of blue orc fruits. While above him Gor grunted and moaned in pleasure. The human knew Gor was showing restraint. Plenty of other trists they had he would have already been fucking his face by now. Krystof guessed he was being rewarded for turning down the offer to walk out with the Lord of the town’s daughter. Or maybe, he just wanted to remind him of which was truly better.

Krystof smiled, bobbing his lips eagerly, moaning in pleasure as he felt that thick length sliding up his tongue. The broad glans pressed right to the back of his throat. His writhing tongue picked up drops of precum, licking and cleaning the bitter fluids. He swallowed every drop, his eyes looking up at Gor. The orc’s tusked mouth hung open giving him a cute blissed-out expression. Taking a deep breath, Krystof winked up at his lover.

Gor had no idea what was coming. The blacksmith had not discussed his plans with his lover. Krystof wanted to surprise him. He pressed his mouth down, lifting up a little on his haunches, changing his position slyly. As the thick tip pushed to the back of his throat, he tilted his head slightly and with his eyes fixed on Gor’s face he pushed forward. He felt the thickness pushing hard as he angled his neck. Then he felt his throat being stretched and a wonderful warmth that pushed inside.

Above him, the orc cried out so loud a flock of roosting birds flew into the sky. The blue male’s face contorted with a mixture of shock and delight. Krystof kept pushing, feeling more inches slide into his throat. Until his lips pressed to the orc’s crotch. A place he had kissed and licked often, but never with his cock thrust right down his throat. He could feel that blue length throbbing inside, while his lungs started to ache a little.

The human held still for as long as he could until the burning need in his lungs forced him to pull back. Gor grunted deeply and lustfully. Blue hands suddenly reached down to grasp Krystof’s head and he smiled inwardly, knowing what was coming next. He had pushed his lover so far that the orc had given in to his own brutish lustful urges.

With a grunt of pleasure, Gor thrust into the wanton human lips. Krystof sucked firmly letting his tongue squirm against the thrusting length. He closed his eyes basking in the feeling as he was held still, the orc thrusting over and over fucking his hungry mouth. He could hear the grunts above him growing faster and louder. With each passing moment, he knew his lover was getting closer and closer.

Hunger and lust filled the human’s mind. He sucked and licked desperately on the thrusting, throbbing length. Swallowing the copious volumes of precum as they flooded his hungry mouth. Gor gasped and his thrusts grew shallow and very rapid, Krystof smiled to himself as he knew the telltale actions of his lover about to pass his peak. With his eyes closed, he focussed on the physical sensations of the thick cock slipping between his lips. They tingled slightly at the movement, slightly numb from being used for so long.

He felt the heat and thickness of the cock stroking up his tongue. Curling the tongue up a little to push against the glans and meatus. Above him, he heard Gor swear in the orcish tongue. Those wonderful dominant sounds made his cock ache with lust. He did not speak a word of their tongue, but just hearing it was enough to turn him on. Sometimes Gor would whisper things to him as they fucked and each word just made him push back harder. Knowing that he was bringing his lover so much pleasure made him come alive in a way no other experience ever did.

Between his lips, the thick blue meat pulsed and he felt a warm tickle hit the back of his throat. A heartbeat later his mouth was flooded, and Krystof swallowed hungrily. While Gor’s thrusts slowed down to short but firm bucks as the orc fucked his juices into the human’s hungry mouth. The fluids overflowed and he felt the viscous fluid seeping from between his lips, running down and dripping off his chin onto his chest.

Swallowing another mouthful, Krystof moaned as the cock was pulled from his lips. A blue hand grasped around the blue shaft, jerking it, as a few weak jets of spunk flew out. The warm fluid landing over his cheeks, neck and chest. Panting heavily, Krystof stayed on his knees before his lover, letting him squeeze out every last drop he could over his face. His cheeks burned with the heat of his blush, but he felt no embarrassment, only pure arousal. His nose was dominated by the potent scent of Gor's cum, his body tingled to the feel. While his ears drank in every pleasured moan that escaped Gor’s lips.

Eventually, the softening blue cock was spent. Gor moved and grasped the bundle of fur. He unrolled it and tossed it down on the forest floor. Krystof would take it home, clean it of dirt and return it to the forge the next day, for the next time their passions grew too much to keep their hands off each other. The distance between each tryst was shortening and Krystof knew that very night he would fall asleep stinking of orc sex and all he would wish was that Gor was still with him.

Gor gestured at the furs and Krystof instantly knew what he wanted the human to do. Laying down on the furs, the blacksmith reached to pull his pants down. Wriggling free of the material and laying naked before his towering orc love. His cock almost painfully erect. While he felt the orc's cum starting to dry on his face and chest. Gor stepped out of his leather boots and kicked his leather pants free. Krystof gasped to see his orc lover in all his naked glory and trembled with need.

“Lay back,” Gor grunted and the blacksmith quickly followed his instruction. The orc took a step forward. Krystof moaned as those huge blue feet pushed his legs apart, he acquiesced to the light nudges and pushes, instantly. Offering himself up with his legs spread wide. His cock standing up, proud above his body the tip glistening with his precum.

Then he took a sharp breath as Gor lifted up his huge foot and lifted it over him. He gulped and whimpered as that broad flat sole came down lightly. Gor’s foot pressed against his aching cock and forced it down against his stomach. The weight pressed down firmly and yet not painfully. Looking up he caught Gor’s eye and he knew what was on the orc’s mind. As that foot started to grind slightly, slipping up and down, pressing his cock down against his own stomach.

Krystof gasped and whimpered pitifully in pleasure. There was no question in his mind of resisting, he was Gor’s to do with as he pleased and he knew that what pleased Gor would please him. Huge orc toes drummed on his cocktip and he gasped as flashes of pleasure burst forth in his mind. He thrust up a little against the orc’s foot. Only to be stopped by an orc word barked loudly. Krystof recognised the tone more than the word and he lay back. Gor wanted to be in control and that was something that suited him.

Gor rewarded his submission by stroking his foot up and down slowly. The blacksmith’s entire cock was covered by the mighty appendage, he whimpered more jetting precum onto Gor’s sole, making each movement far easier and slicker. Once more toes tapped lightly on his glans and Krystof whimpered louder, those blue toes began to shimmer as they were soaked with his precum. The pleasure growing with each passing second. After a day of watching the orc in the forge, of thinking of everything they would do. Plus after getting a mouth and throatful of orc cock and cum. Krystof found himself drawing close far faster than he had expected.

Panting and writhing on the soft furs beneath his lover. He glanced up, his eyes begging and pleading with his orc to push his right over the edge. Gor just smiled down at him and the soft drumming on his glans stopped. Krystof moaned desperately with need and yet he forced himself to resist and urge to thrust. In this wood and upon these furs, Gor was in charge and he knew that if he did as the orc commanded he would not go home unsatisfied.

A nod of satisfaction from Gor and Krystof knew he had done well. His eyes spotted that blue cock, no longer soft and spent. It was engorged and ready for more. However, any thoughts of what Gor would do with that mighty shaft next fled the human’s mind. Squeals of pleasure escaped his lips as the foot on his cock began to move again. Pressing down, squeezing his cock between the sole of the foot and his own stomach. Moving faster and faster with each passing moment.

Knowing that Gor was looking to push him over the edge, Krystof writhed and squirmed, trying to thrust into the foot pinning his cock down. Mere seconds passed before he felt himself tumbling over the edge. His own voice lifting up, Gor’s name coming screaming from his lips. While his cock covered that orc foot with his orgasmic fluids. Gor kept moving until Krystof gave a sigh of contentment and fell still. Then for a moment or two, the orc stood still, one foot pressing onto the drooling human cock as he stood proud and naked. A thick orc shaft waving in the early evening air.

Then Krystof felt the foot lift and he moaned as the pressure was removed. Gor’s dripping blue foot was moved up his body until it hovered right over his face. His own fluids were glistening on the foot and he gulped, the reached out with both hands, grasping Gor’s thick ankle. While he lifted his face up, kissing the soul and licking it. He lapped up his own fluids quickly and eagerly cleaned his orc lover.

After a few seconds, Gor’s foot was put down on the furs. Clean enough, or maybe Gor just could not wait for what was to come next. The large blue orc slipped to his knees, between the human’s still spread legs. Krystof trembled a little, the next part was often rough and yet he had learned to love the feeling. “O...oil!” He whimpered, knowing that he had taken a small vial of oil from the forge. It was usually used to sharpen weapons, however, the two had found that used on another weapon, it could make things far smoother and less painful.

Gor quickly retrieved the vial and poured the contents over his shaft. Krystof watched as the orc stroked his slick maleness and he found his own springing to life as he thought of what was to come. A moment later the orc was back between his legs, strong hands grasped his ankles and lifted them up. Gor’s hands slowly slipped down his legs as Krystof lay back preparing himself for what was to come. Clearly, Gor wanted to show his dominance, Krystof liked to think the orc was laying claim to him. Possibly the visit from Lord Calladan had left the orc worried and in need to show Krystof just who he wanted.

Krystof had no doubts about that. Even the possibility of marrying a noble, elevating his station of life. It was an empty promise if it came a the price of losing Gor. However, if Gor wanted to remind him why he came into the woods again and again, even in the middle of winter. Riding the orc’s cock desperately while standing ankle-deep in snow, because the thought of waiting until spring was too much to bear.

His shapely legs were spread wide, Gor’s hands grasping his inner thighs firmly and pressing down, holding them apart. While the orc shuffled forward. Krystof moaned deeply as he felt that warm tip slipping down his taint. Doing his best to lift his hips into position. With one voice they sighed contentedly as cocktip found a quivering entrance. The two lovers stared into each other’s eyes and then as Gor thrust forward they both gasped in unison.

That thick length pushed inside his used hole easily. The slickness from the oil made the entrance far easier, inch after inch was pushed slowly but firmly inside him. Krystof squirmed a little on the furs as he felt himself stretching around that wonderful length. Only the slightest twinges of discomfort. The human remembered their first time, it had hurt so much that tears had come to his eyes. Only his burning passion and need for the orc had allowed him to persevere and take his whole length.

Now, as he felt Gor’s balls press to his ass he just gave a gasp of sweet contented satisfaction. Reaching his arms towards the orc, he invited him down. Gor took the invitation eagerly, laying his broad frame over Krystof’s. Their lips met, with their passion burning and consuming them both. Gor began to thrust, his blue hips swinging as he plunged his blue cock deep into his lover. Krystof gasped and cried out into his lover’s mouth as his tight depths were plundered. His hands grasped the orc, clawing at his back in pleasure as the thrusting maleness found the sweet spots inside him. His cock was trapped between them, leaking and throbbing with desperate need.

With a grunt, the orc broke the kiss. His head went down to Krystof’s shoulder and the human cried out as he felt tusks and teeth biting down. The pain blossomed forth and mixed with the pleasure of mating. It was a strange and yet wonderfully intoxicating mix. The human’s hands slipped down, grasping the orc’s buttocks, pulling him forward desperately. Wanting to feel more inside him, to have the orc let loose and pummel his insides with the power of the brutal beast he knew he could be.

Orcish words escaped Gor’s lips and Krystof whimpered and moaned lost to the lustful need for his lover. Pushing his body back wantonly, strapping himself around that thickness, desperately trying to milk it. He struggled to hold it inside, knowing that would only make the orc thrust harder and a second later he got his wish. Those blue hips smacked into his so loud. Their cries of passion and the sounds of their mating echoed around the woods.

Krystof squeezed those flexing orc buttocks desperately tightly. His cock leaked precum and then he gasped as a firm hand grasped around his length. Lifting up, he muted his screams of passion by biting down on the orc’s broad shoulders. Their bodies writhed together on the furs. With each thrust, Gor pushed the human closer to his edge. Krystof marvelled at the strength of his lover. Laying beneath him he knew he was utterly at Gor’s mercy and yet he felt no fear. There was nothing between them but love, trust and respect. He knew that he would never fear anything when those strong blue arms were around him. Especially not when his lover was inside him.

Crying out, the human felt himself pass the point of no return. His cock spraying his cum onto them both. Gor roared into his shoulder with passion. The orc’s thrusting suddenly hitting a fever pitch. His hips thundering home so hard Krystof could barely keep his breath. The brute snarled and grunted like an animal lost to the moment of lust, as he rutted the human. Beads of sweat rolled off the orc's body, dripping down onto Krystof.

Then the thrusts suddenly stopped and Krystof felt Gor pull back. Thrusting his entire length in just as hard as he could, pulling it back and firmly deep dicking the blacksmith. While inside, Krystof felt a familiar warmth filling him and knew the blue orc was fucking his seed as deep as he could. The two writhed together, Gor thrusting until he collapsed panting and trembling on top of Krystof.

Putting his arms around Gor’s shoulders, he held his lover as they both basked in the afterglow. Their forms entwined together in carnal bliss. Panting softly Krystof lay his head down on the furs and looked up. Above he could see the leaves of the trees swaying in a light breeze outlined against the blue sky and he sighed with contentment. His arms tightened around his lover.

As the moments passed, Gor softened and slid out from inside him. Without a word, Krystof rolled onto his side and Gor moved up behind him. The blacksmith closed his eyes and just basked in the warmth of their embrace. These were the moments he lived for. Day in and day out he worked through the same routines, mostly the same conversations and all he thought of was the next time he would be able to lay with his orc.

Grasping one of the blue orc’s huge hands he pulled it up and kissed the back of Gor’s hand. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly and sincerely. A soft grunt of agreement came from behind him and he knew that the desire was mutual. The blue hand pulled free from his fingers and stroked softly down his flank and then grasped his hip and pulled him back a little against the warm wall of orc behind him.

Gulping softly the human glanced up again, trying to judge what the time was. The sun was waning, its light getting more orange. Pouring through the leaves in red-golden beams. He tried to bask in the moment, desperately wishing for time to slow down. The lonely walk home was drawing closer. How strange it was to hate the idea of returning to the only home he had ever known. The house he and generations of his family had been raised in. Yet… it was a place that Gor would never be able to go. If anyone saw the orc at his place there would be rumours spreading and questions to be answered. With a rebellion in the distance, now was the worst time to take such a risk and yet, his heart ached. “Do.... do you want to…”

A blue finger suddenly pressed to his lips and he knew that was Gor’s way of stopping him from asking the question. “Want? Yes, very very much. We know we can’t. This is what we can have, and it will have to suffice.” The orc whispered those words and Krystof smiled to hear them. Moreover, he heard the longing in those words, and he knew that the orc felt the same. Somehow the joint longing made it easier to bear.

Gor kissed his shoulders and he pushed back a little against the orc. “You ever think about… just leaving? Heading up into the hills and leaving everything behind us?” Krystof whispered softly.

“Everyday,” the orc replied softly into his ears. “Just the two of us, no brother to scold me for the choices of my heart. No lords or masters to hold us apart with threats of punishment.” After he finished speaking the orc kissed his neck and slowly traced his lips up to Krystof’s ear and gently nibbled on his earlobe.

“Mmmm, sounds perfect, just you and me. We could spend every night together.” Krystof replied softly and moaned to the attention on his neck. The orc’s hand stroked slowly up and down his flanks making something stir in his loins once more. Those rough fingers, so callused from hard work, such strength and brute force wielded with the gentleness of a summer's breeze. “No more watching you all day, so close and yet untouchable.”

“You can touch me now,” Gor whispered and licked slowly up his neck. Ending with a soft huff of warm breath in Krystof’s ear. “But to be able to touch you at will. To caress your beautiful body whenever I desire…”

“When would you desire?” Krystof asked with a moan, pushing his rump back. Behind him, he felt something firm growing and he knew it was not just his own loins that tingled with the thoughts of being together.

As in sensing his thoughts, Gor thrust his hips forward, thick meat pressing into the blacksmith’s lower back, “you know very well that 'when' would be always.”

Groaning deeply his lust rising, Krystof reached behind him, grasping Gor’s wiry hair and pressing the orc’s face into the nape of his neck, “maybe we should just do it. Run for it...maybe join the rebellion. Or just...live… oh!” As he spoke he felt the orc’s hand grasp his hips, that thickness slipped down lower and he gasped to feel it sliding to his stretched and slick pucker. “I could be yours every day, every night. I will follow you to the edge of the world and over it, if you go, I will follow.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Gor purred in response, the orc’s cocktip starting to push into him again. “To spend all day and night on this cock, to be taken at my every whim.”

“Fuck...yes, yes I would. With all my heart I want to be yours,” Krystof moaned back as he felt the orc’s sword return to its home deep inside him. His hips pressed back wantonly and willingly. His body felt ever more complete the deeper the orc pushed. “Would you not love to hold me, to take me whenever your heart desired?”

“Yes, I want it...so badly,” groaned the orc, as their hips smacked together firmly. “I want to feel you against me, around me and to taste your sweet lips every morning and feast on your ass every night,” Gor affirmed as he thrust again and their bodies pressed close. Krystof felt his own maleness throb and it was not long before an orc hand grasped his length. Gor was ever the generous lover and Krystof trusted that he would always see to the human’s needs.

Twisting his head, Krystof kissed Gor desperately, as their bodies continued to rutt. Gor’s thickness reaming his tight and yet cum filled depths. Their earlier tryst made things much smoother, yet Gor’s thrusts were slow and tender. Almost like the orc was taking his time, not wanting to rush. They both knew once they were done they would need to dress, roll up the furs and part ways. So Krystof bit his lip and tried to force himself to go slow.

Yet with each moment that passed his body called out for the orc. He pushed back firmly and eagerly into each thrust. Feeling Gor respond, sweet moans of pleasure against his lips. While the thrusting grew faster and firmer. Making it a struggle to keep their kiss. A slightly rougher thrust from Gor tore their lips apart with a joint cry of bliss. “Take me… oh fuck...please… I want to be yours.” Krystof cried out, his words echoing through the woods.

Gor responded with his body, pressing up against him, his hips thrusting faster. The orc’s teeth and tusks bit down on his shoulder and he cried out. Knowing that he would have teeth marks for days, he would have to keep his shirt on even in the forge, lest he be asked awkward questions. It was a small price to pay for the feeling of belonging to his love. With each moment his ass was stuffed full of thick blue orc meat. Their bodies worked together in blissful harmony.

For every thrust Gor made, Krystof matched it with a push. Each withdrawal was matched with a clench. Forever his body invited the orc’s shaft back inside, doing all he could to pleasure his lover. While a blue hand grasped his cock. So strong was his arousal that his hardness was a match for any bar of iron they had ever handled. Gor’s strength was used to squeeze and draw the pleasure out of him.

Within himself, Krystof felt the pleasure building. Desperately he fought it. Trying to hold it at bay. Yet he was like a man trying to hold the rising tide at bay with only his hands to build a wall of sand. Gor pushed and pressed, his cock knowing the human’s depths so intimately, each pleasure spot was assaulted and plundered over and over. His cock throbbed and ached, while a blue thumb ran around his glans, teasing the most sensitive tip.

Whimpering the human felt the battle within him and he was losing it rapidly. The orc rocking faster and faster, his cock reaming his depths. He knew that he had just seconds and he tried to commit everything to memory. Gor’s feel, his touch, scent and sounds. The earthy scent of the leaf mould, the warm golden orange of the setting sun and the cool sensation of a breeze washing over his naked flesh.

Unable to fight any longer, Krystof succumbed to worldly pleasures. Screaming out into the woods. His cock throbbing in that blue hand and spraying his seed out onto the furs they frequently shared. Gor grunted and gasped, the orc’s thrusts suddenly increasing in speed and power as if he was desperate to share in the moment of bliss, to cum with his lover. Moments later the blue orc’s form trembled and he felt the warmth spreading inside him as he was filled once more with the love of his orc.

Their passion subsided, and Krystof felt the orc cock pulling out from him. He heard Gor getting to his feet and knew that it was time. They dressed in silence, the furs were bundled back up, and the dirt from the ground was brushed off as best as they could. Krystof would dry it at home and then beat the dirt out before bringing it back to the forge, ready for their next tryst.

Not a word was spoken until they reached the path and it was time to part ways. Gor turned to look at him and he saw the longing in those eyes, “I meant it you know… if you asked me I would run with you...even if…” he never got to finish the rest of his sentence, for Gor kissed him. Strong blue fingers caressed his cheeks tenderly as their tongues and passion met, far too briefly for Krystof’s liking.

“I will see you tomorrow morning,” Gor said, not addressing the human’s words at all.

“Tomorrow, my sweetheart,” sighed Krystof and turned, slinging the bundle of furs over his shoulder. The two walked back to their own homes.

******

Seven years, almost to the day. So much had happened to Gor since he shared that final time with his love in the forest. The next day had been more horrible than any other in his life, it had started with something that should have been celebrated. He had saved a child from a carthorse running wild and ended most terribly with him being punished by lashes of the cat and Lord Calladan ordering he be hanged.

“You seem deep in thought my friend,” Eriac observed from his warg mount. The two of them were riding side by side on their way back. There had been a war, not between humans and orcs, but between the rabbit and lion kingdoms. Eriac had seen an opportunity, a chance to secure some much-needed funds and equipment. Raiding wagons of the Lapine army of the Starholt Kingdom and plundering what military equipment they could. Rebellions may be built on hope and obstinacy. However, they make for poor weapons and armour.

“Just old memories,” Gor mumbled in reply, his thoughts still stuck seven years behind him. “A long ride gives time for thought.”

“Well, I am hoping you’ve given some thought to our haul and what it means,” the half-orc replied. Gor knew Eriac was a man of singular purpose. The leader of the rebellion never thought of anything but ways to victory. It was part of the reason they had managed to get as far as they had. “You used to be a blacksmith, so you know what we’ve got, what we can make from it and how much else we might buy… so what say you, my friend?”

“Ten score, maybe a few more,” Gor replied. Despite his thoughts of the past, he too believed in their cause. He had more personal reasons for fighting. Like many of their kin, sometimes a cause was not enough. Vengeance was a powerful force. It had kept the blue orc living through times that death would have been so easy to embrace. Kept him fighting when surrender was the sensible option.

“Five hundred?” The half-orc gasped. “Five hundred armed and armoured orcs...strong and stinking! Ohh with such an army we will carve out an Empire!” Eriac shook his fist emphatically as he crowed.

Gor was as ever far more grounded, “the Ameras Kingdom has an army of over ten thousand. It’s a start, but unless more rally to your banner with weapons…”

“They will, my friend. All our people just need to see is that there is hope and they will flock to join us,” laughed the young man. Gor had to admit, things were at least looking up. By his count, they had a hundred wargs, mounted calvary with the weapons and armour they had plundered, one on one they were more than a match. Wargs would keep them more mobile too.

“Maybe, but right now most of our people are not at liberty to flock to your or anybody's banner,” he replied and gave his friend a pointed look. “We could… give them an option.”

Eriac’s jaw dropped, usually, he was the one proposing outlandish plans and his friend was tempering them with even-headed logic, “liberate the camps? You have grown bold my friend.”

The blue orc laughed softly, “no my friend. I have grown more desperate. If we are to win this war we cannot do it with the numbers we have. Before we left we needed recruits and weaponry. Now we just need recruits.”

“Very well,” Eriac nodded in agreement. “We are but half a day’s ride from the rest of our people. When we arrive, we will start planning to hit at least one of the camps. Do you have a suggestion as to which?”

“Aye, I do,” Gor’s eyes blazed. “Kair, it is furthest from our base, the humans will not expect us to be so bold. We will hit them and be halfway home before the King’s men can even start to march.”

The half-orc was about to respond when they heard the soft thump of running paws. With a signal they stopped the column of orcs they were leading and weapons were drawn. Humans rarely used wargs, they preferred horses finding the lupines far too unruly to master. However, they did sometimes use them for scouts and messengers. Being able to travel faster and further than horses and through rougher terrain.

However, as the rider came into view they were both to see it was ridden by an orc. Not just an orc, but a familiar one. “Kor!” Eriac exclaimed. The young orc had been part of the main group of orc rebels, left behind while Eriac and Gor led an incursion into the Starholt kingdom to plunder.

“Eriac! I was worried I might have to ride all through Starholt to find you. How was your expedition?” The young green orc asked, riding up and shaking the half orc’s hand.

“We come bearing much plunder. Enough armour to fit many men and gold to buy more from the dwarves” laughed the half-orc. “How goes things on the home front?”

“I was sent to find you, we have a visitor. A human!” The young orc exclaimed.

“A spy? Is our location revealed to the enemy?” Eriac asked urgently. If the humans knew where they were then his men would need to move quickly. The orcs were smart enough that they had several fallback camps ready each with a small complement of orcs to keep some home fires burning. Despite his bravado, Eriac was well aware they did not have the numbers to resist the Ameras army if they came in sufficient numbers. There was no shame in running from an opponent who had you so heavily outnumbered that defeat is all but certain.

“Maybe, he says… he says he came to warn us…” Kor started to explain.

“Bah! A human trick, you cannot trust their word. No doubt he was caught and is just looking to save his skin by claiming to be on a fool's errand,” Snorted the half-orc. Gor detected something else in Kor’s demeanour.

“Kolath suspects as you. However, he walked unarmed into our camp and he… he bears many scars,” the young orc replied and Gor felt something in his guts twisting.

“What say’s my brother?” The blue orc asked breaking his silence. His brother had escaped with him all those years ago.

“Yor is out scouting and has not returned to the camp. However, funny you should mention Yor, for the human he asked for Yor and you by name,” Kor replied and Gor felt his back tingling. Old scars from his punishment, whipping until he was so bent and bloody he could barely stand. Yor had saved him, breaking him out of the cell he was in. That whole night had been a blur, Gor only really remembered waking up on a ferry boat with his brother looking after him. When he had asked about Krystof Yor told him that he had died helping Yor break him free.

“This human did… did he give you his name?” The orc asked, urgently his heart racing, he knew the answer but he also had to hear the words.

“Yes, Krystof Smyth… does thou know of him?” Kor asked and there was silence for a moment as the orc felt something boiling up inside him.

“Gor… is the man known to…” Eriac’s question was never finished as Gor let out a howl of anguish and stirred his warg. The blue orc dug his heels in as hard as he had ever done. Leaving his friends behind him as he charged headlong on the path home. His eyes streaming tears, of joy and horror all at once. A maelstrom of emotions and memories whirring in his head. Of taking a job helping a young human blacksmith. Of laughing with him, the spark that had grown between them into a blazing forge that tempered their love. Night after night of resisting those urges. Until his desires broke his will and he kissed Krystof for the first time, taking him and holding him. The joy in his heart when the love had been accepted and returned tenfold.

He remembered lying on the boat, weeping his heart out to hear his love had been ripped from him. That Krystof had died and he remembered wishing that he could have died with him. Pledging his soul to the rebellion, not for the cause of freedom but for vengeance. He would make the humans pay for what they took from him.

The sun was just about behind the horizon by the time he reached the camp. A familiar figure standing to meet him. His brother Yor, “you!” Gor snarled, throwing himself off his warg and landing on his brother sprawling into the dirt as he raised a fist, “you told me he was dead!” His fist smashed clear into his brother’s face and the older orc howled. However, Yor was a fighter and he swung up with a knee, catching Gor in the jaw. The blue orc was sent sprawling.

Landing on all fours he was up into a fighting crotch in an instant, Yor held up his hands, “I thought he was... I swear brother I did not lie. Though... I may not have told you everything.”

“Where is he?” Gor spat, having no patience to hear anymore. He could deal with his brother afterwards. First, he needed to see Krystof and anyone who got in his way would regret it, he would see to that.

“Gast is seeing to his wounds,” Yor responded pointing at the healer's tent. That cooled Gor’s anger some. At least his human was getting some care. Though his grudge against his brother would likely last for years, possibly forever depending on the story Krystof told.

The blue orc ran across the camp, while Yor stayed back. Gor assumed that it might have been guilt or shame holding his brother back. He had never told him the full story of his rescue and now he knew, at least some of what he had been told was a lie. He burst into the healer’s tent at full speed, only to almost fall over when he saw a human there. He was half the man he had been, his muscles had withered. Laying on a small cot, with Gast tending to the festered wounds on his back. Gor knew those kinds of wounds, he had scars on his back from when he had faced the cat. A cruel lash with nine metal hooks on ropes of leather. It not only whipped you it tore your flesh apart, slowly.

“Kr… Krystof?” he asked, suddenly fearful of the answer. Hesitant, and frozen in the entrance to the tent. The human’s head turned and Gor’s breath caught as he saw the face. A once handsome face, now with a scar from his chin up to his left eye. Or eye socket, for the shining eye, that he had known so well, was gone.

The other eye was open and it was bright, the human smiled, “I told you I would follow you to the edge of the world, or over if need be, sweetheart. Sorry I am so late.”

“Krystof!,” Gor whimpered, his eyes flooding with tears of joy and pain. He stumbled, his legs suddenly unable to carry him. He reached the cot at a half walk, half crawl and took the human’s trembling hand. “I… I… Yor told me that you were dead.”

“Not quite, but close,” the human replied with a smile. “We got you out… that’s what matters.”

“That...was seven years ago. What... what happened? What happened to your eye? Why did you not escape with us?” Gor asked urgently, squeezing the human’s hand in his palm, doubting that the human could possibly still be there. For so long he had been a memory, a dream. If he woke alone once more his heart would shatter into a thousand fragments and this time he knew he would not be able to heal it.

“I…”

“This story will wait,” a female voice cut across them both. As Gast broke her silence and put down a bowl of vile-smelling cream she had been applying to Krystof’s wounds. “I have work to do. If you wish this human to live you will stay silent and out of my way.”

Gor opened his mouth to argue. However, the female healer was well known for her acerbic nature and had on more than one occasion dragged someone from her tent kicking and screaming. However, her skills as a leach were something to behold. If she judged that Krystof needed rest, then she would not let anyone risk the life of her patient. “Yes, Gast.” He replied, and settled down on his knees, next to the cot. Keeping Krystof’s hand clenched in his. Gor knew he would get his answers, even if it took time. First and foremost, he wanted to make sure Krystof was alive to give them to him.

After a good hour of tender treatment, Gast put down her tools. “Need a bucket of water.” She said, and when Gor stayed on his knees she struck out with a slap that echoed across the camp. “I meant now!”

Gor reached up to his stinging cheek and then nodded. He had been struck far harder in his years as one of the rebels. However, the last person who had struck him with such impunity had been a human lord, Callanda, when he ordered the orc to be put to the lash. Of course, the difference was that Gast had his respect and he knew the leach worked just as hard as any in their group. Her passion came from saving lives. Including Krystof’s, if the female was to be believed. “Yes, Gast.” He replied calmly with a slight bow of respect, that earned him a grin.

Leaving the tent, Gor was surprised that Gast followed him, “he’s been through much. The wounds on his back are not too recent, I'd say two weeks or more without any proper treatment. He’s lucky, I smell no serious infection.”

“Will he…”

“He’ll live, and recover. Nothing I can do about his eye or the scars. Most of them are old,” the female orc replied as they walked towards the small brook that provided the camp with drinking water. “Seen scars like that before, I have, but never on a human. He means something to you.” The last part was a statement, only a fool would think otherwise and Gast was no fool.

“His scars, can you tell…”

“I suspect he will know their source and can tell you better than I,” replied the elderly female with a shrug. “However, the eye and a stab wound in his side are the oldest, many years old they are. There’s one other thing you should know.”

The blue orc paused as he lifted up a bucket full of water, “what’s that?”

“He’s strong…. For a human anyway. Those lashes he took, he walked here after them, with almost no food or assistance and he did it to warn us.” Gast said. “The others doubt his word because it comes from a human, think that he’s a spy. They overruled my advice to listen. I suspect you will not. If he was a spy, he would have arrived intact and with a full belly. Not falling apart and almost dead from starvation.”

“I’ve known him for years, I trust him,” confirmed Gor with a nod.

“And love him,” laughed the old orc and then nodded her head. “He feels the same, that is clear. Love is the only reason to walk for two weeks with injuries like his. You want to go to him, sit at his side and hear everything you have missed.”

“There is much that I do not know,” the orc admitted.

“If we have to wait for you to learn all that you do not know then we will be here until the mountains have been ground down to grains of sand,” cackled the old healer taking the bucket from him. “Go speak to the others, we need to move. I will finish tending to your friend. There will be time enough for you to speak to him on the journey.”

At that moment there was a commotion at the edge of the camp. Gor’s hand flew to his sword hilt, only to pause as he heard laughter and familiar voices. Eriac had caught him up, along with the rest of his band. “I will, and thank you. For your care of my friend.”

"I am a leach, it's what we do. Thanks are neither asked for nor wanted," Gast snorted as she took the bucket and returned to the healer’s tent. While Gor made his way through the camp to find his friend and as it turned out his brother in conversation. Yor’s face was bruised and swollen already from their brief encounter. He winced at his brother’s approach and Gor saw more shame in those eyes. There was a story there to be heard. However, he knew Gast was right. If there was an attack coming then they needed to move.

“Gor, glad to see you made it. We need to talk,” the half-orc said with a serious note in his voice.

“I apologise, but I had…”

“I’m no fool, my friend,” Eriac cut in with a slight smile. “You had someone to see. I hope your reunion was joyous. However, we need to decide where we fall back to and I could use your counsel.”

The blue orc was a little stunned, he had expected to need to make an argument, ”so you believe Krystof?”

“Belief is irrelevant,” snorted the half-orc with a roll of his eyes. ”Either he came here to warn us, which means he found out our location from someone else, most likely his own people. Or he came here as a spy in which case the King’s men know where we are to send him. Either way, the chances are our camp is found and an army is on the way. We need to pull out now before they reach us. We can discuss which he is later...”

“Krystof is no spy,” a voice cut in before Gor could come to his friend’s defence. It was from Yor, taller and ganglier than his brother. The older orc had practically raised Gor after their parents died from a plague that ravaged the Ameras kingdom almost two decades ago. He reached up and touched his bruised cheek and have his brother a slight nod. “Nor is this the first time he has risked his life to save our people.”

Eriac nodded and gave the two brothers his own stern look, “clearly there is a story here. However, I have neither the time nor patience for stories right now. We need to decide which camp we fall back to and we need to send out some scouts. I don’t want to be caught strung out on the march.”

The blue orcs exchanged a look. Gor knew that he would get his story, probably twice. Once from Krystof and once from Yor. He had many questions for both of them. However, he put those aside, seeing the logic in Eriac’s pragmatism. A fallback camp was chosen, scouts sent out, and Eriac’s raiding band was sent on. While the rest of the group began to decamp with speed and efficiency that few armies could match.

Gast and her gear were packed into one of the few carts they had. Krystof and his cot were placed there as well. Gor insisted on his own warg being used to pull it. Mostly because that would give him an excuse to ride with the human. Although his warg was well trained and unlikely to bolt if anything unexpected happened. The blue orc leapt up into the driver's seat as soon as the wagons were ready to roll. However, a moment later a familiar if slightly bruised face appeared.

“I wish to ride too.” Yor mumbled and looked up with pleading in his eyes. For a moment the anger inside Gor rose again. All this time Yor had lied to him. However, if he was to have the truth he would want his brother there to tell his side. Then he would see how he felt and if he needed to add to the bruises on his brother's face. So he nodded his head and his brother climbed up and sat in the back next to Krystof. Though Gor noticed how his brother did not seem willing or able to look the human in the face.

A second surprise passenger arrived as they started rolling. Eriac rode up on his warg and leapt onto the side of the wagon, before climbing inside. “Now, there is a story to be told and I have both the time and patience to hear it.” The half-orc announced with a meaningful look in his eye. Gor knew better than to argue with that look. Eriac was a stubborn man and would argue until the end of time for what he wanted.

So Gor passed the reins to Gast, who gave him a slightly sympathetic smile but said nothing. Gor joined the other three sitting around the human, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “I feel… silly being the only one laying down,” Krystof said lifting himself into a sitting position.

“Lie down, or I will tie you down!” Gast snapped quickly. Ever a healer with a mind on what a patient needs, and not caring much for what they might want. Especially so when it might slow their healing. Krystof looked for a moment like he might object. However, lay back down instead, with a very embarrassed smile.

“Krystof…” Gor could not help but savour that name in his mouth. It had been so long since he had spoken it to anyone, let alone its owner. “I need to know what happened that day.”

The blacksmith smiled and nodded, “how much do you remember?”

Gor shuddered for a second as he thought back to that day. Most of his memories were filled with pain. It had started like any day, walking into town with Krystof. There had been some noise, a barrel had fallen off the wagon by the inn. The crashing sound had startled the horse pulling the wagon and he had bolted. Ale barrels had tumbled off and he had spotted a human walking with a child in the horse’s path. “I remember pushing Calista and her sister out of the way after that things got fuzzy. I remember Lord Calladan announcing I needed to be punished for daring to touch his daughters and you arguing against him. Then the pain of the lashes. Next thing I remember I was on a raft, with Yor and he told me… he told me you were dead.”

With that last line, he shot his brother an angry look. He had bitten back the desire to say that his brother had lied. However, no doubt Krystof would guess the truth of what happened. Gor looked back at the human to see no hint of anger on his face. “That is part of what happened. The horse did bolt and you did save Calista and her sister. However, one of the loose barrels hit you a moment later and you took a fall. I think you hit your head. You did not seem able to speak or hear clearly.”

“Lord Calladan was not far away and he arrived soon with the town guards. He found his youngest daughter bruised in what the wagon driver insisted was an unprovoked attack by an orc…” Krystof began to explain.

“Why did the man tell such a falsehood?” Eriac cut in sharply, his face grave and dispassionate.

The human shrugged, “Lord Calladan is a man who is protective of his daughters and he is swift to claim vengeance when he considers himself wronged.” Krystof gestured to where Gast had bound a strip of cloth over his missing eye. “My punishment for looking at him with too little respect.”

A growl emerged from the throat of Gor, and the blue orc’s hand twitched to grasp his sword-hilt. The blacksmith gave a slight smile to see his lover still protective of him after so many years apart, “The man was afeared he would take the blame. Lord Calladan demanded your lashes and I begged for him to show mercy. I swore on everything holy that you had done nothing but try to save his child. However, he would not hear, Calista and Yolanda had been escorted away to see the town leach. No one would speak on your behalf and… I watched as they tied you over a barrel and your lashes were dealt. I prayed that the daze you were in might lessen the pain…”

“It did not,” Gor growled at the memory. The only clear part of the events he remembered was every single lash he had received. The feel of the whip, the tearing of the nine claws as they pulled down his back.

“My attention should have been elsewhere,” sighed Krystof. “While my eyes were on this horror, the innkeeper was whispering into the ear of Lord Calladan. Spinning a tail where his men were not just innocent, they were heroes. Seeing a hulking orc attacking fair maidens they had let their wagon loose, wild barrels rolling had stopped you in your murderous rampage. He earned forgiveness and thanks for his brave men, no punishment and Lord Calladan even paid for the loss of ale. He ordered your death to be on the next morning.

Knowing that reason was not going to avail me, I sought out help from the only other person I thought would be willing to risk everything to save you,” Krystof’s eye turned to Yor, who had sat silently listening. A slight smile came to the blue orcs lips.

“A lone human just wandering into our village like he owned it,” chuckled the blue orc.

“Well technically, my family did own that land,” mumbled the human in response. “Plus I had been there before. My grandsire used to visit often.”

Yor nodded and smiled, “it still took courage. I was not pleased to see him. The human who had led my brother astray, who had seduced him…”

“I seduced him,” Gor cut in brusquely.

“I’d say it was more of a mutual seduction,” Krystof added with a slight pink hue coming to his cheeks.

Unwilling to discuss his brother’s sexual conquests further, Yor continued. “He was shouting my name, and I was not best pleased. My greeting was far from polite. However, once he told me my brother needed help, that his life was in danger. I knew I had to listen. He had what I shall generously call “a plan” for your rescue.”

Krystof shrugged, “I am a man of iron and steel. All my life I have worked in the forge. What knew I of tactics, or subterfuge? So yes, my plan was simple. I would approach the watchhouse where you were held captive after the sun was long down. Claim I had brought you a final meal, something all condemned men could look forward to. Yor would steal a wagon and horse from post master’s stables and after I surprised the guards…”

“Your plan was for one man, unarmed to break Gor out of his cell?” Eriac asked, the astonishment and ridicule heavy in his tone.

“T’was a simple small town watchhouse. One cell and a small room for the watchmen to sit and wait for any calls to action. Only two men on duty, men I had known since I was a child,” retorted the blacksmith with a shrug. “I may not be a man of action, but I beat iron to my will for a living. Have no doubt I was able to beat those men to my will too.” Krystof retorted with a meaningful look that only seemed enhanced by his scar and missing eye.

“I was outside with the wagon a few moments later,” confirmed Yor. “Krystof did emerge with my brother, struggling under his weight. We got him onto the wagon and made a rush for the way out of town…”

“If we all escaped together, why were you not on the raft?” Gor asked suddenly his eyes on his brother, who could not meet his gaze.

“We escaped on a one-horse wagon, the guards in town and more men were alerted from the nearby fort. Men on horseback.” Krystof answered his voice calm and even. “Our plan had been to make for the ferry, get across the river and cut it free after us.”

“We beat everyone to the ferry, I got you onto it and Krystof was unfastening the mooring,” there was a tremble in Yor’s voice as he spoke and his eyes were on his feet. “Only, our pursuers were on us before we could cast off. There was no time and…”

“I cut the ferry guide rope before I was tackled,” Krystof jumped in as Yor’s voice faded. “I knew I could not reach the ferry and it would be too slow to cross. They would cut us down with bows. However, the river was fast, if I cut the rope between the riverbanks the ferry would be free and soon the current would sweep you both to safety.”

“No! That’s not how it was,” Yor’s voice was suddenly clear and strong. “I cut the rope, not Krystof,” the blue orc turned his gaze on his brother. “He was at swordpoint and … and he called to me to take you and go.” For a moment there was silence save for the sounds of the cart rocking as they travelled. “Many times over the years I have thought back on that moment. On what I could have done differently. Of fighting, of trying to save him. I have carried the shame in secret. I… you were true to my brother and you deserved better. I am sorry.”

Before Gor could answer, Krystof lifted himself up and offered a hand to Yor, “I too have had many years to think on this. Two unarmoured men against twenty, with bows and swords. If you had tried to save me then all of us would have shared the same fate. My heart does not hold thee to blame for what happened. It is grateful that you had the clarity of mind to do what needed to be done.”

Once more there was silence, as Yor stared at the human’s hand like it was a knife being pointed at him. Then, with tears on his cheeks, the orc took the offered hand and grasped it tightly, but said nothing.

“I said lay down or be tied down!” Gast snapped suddenly, her command cutting through the strange silence and shattering the moment utterly. Krystof gave a wry smile and lay back down.

As if guessing what Gor was thinking Yor answered a question that was but a moment away from Gor’s lips, “I knew if you thought Krystof might be alive, you would insist on trying to rescue him. However, I believed that he would be put to death for his role in our rescue and so I told you he died helping me rescue you.”

The blatant answer shocked Gor. He knew his older brother had often tried to protect him. However, he never thought he would hold such important information from him. His fists tightened and yet his sense prevailed over him. This was not the time or place to hold his brother to account. Instead, he gave his brother a look and the blue orc nodded slightly. At some point in the future, the two of them would slip away from camp and Yor would pay his dues.

“Well, it seems my friend has got his answers,” Eriac spoke up and then added. “However, as the leader of this rebellion, I need to know how it is you came to find our camp and to know that we were in danger if indeed we were. So, do not stop this tale now. For your own, and for all our sakes.”

Krystof nodded his understanding and continued his tale, “I was taken prisoner at the river and brought back to Kair. I expected to be hanged as a warning to those who might stand against Lord Calladan. However, he said that as I had aided the orcs, I should be punished as one. So he sent me to Galtrep…” there was a sharp intake of breath from everyone, including Gast. Galtrep was a prison camp where unruly orcs were sent. It was run by merciless men and those unfortunate to be sent inside were worked often unto death. A few had escaped, but it was rare and often more through fortune than skill or planning.

“As the only human, my fellow prisoners were naturally wary of me,” Krystof’s hand slipped to where Gor remembered a scar of a stab wound. “Some did take advantage of the chance for some retribution against my kind. Yet, somehow I survived. Though I was not sure for how long I would live. Tis a great irony that my saviour was Lord Calladan. Not through any kindly intentions on his part. He would often visit to taunt me, tell me of how he had seized my lands. That his men had felled every tree in Smyth’s wood and that the meadow had been ploughed and he was growing crops to sell.”

"I spat in his eye.” Krystof actually smiled at the memory. “I have never been much good at spitting, but the sight of his indignant face trembling in rage as he desperately tried to mop my spittal out of his eye. That kept me going many a day when the bite of the workmaster’s whip cut too deep. Then he took my eye. Not with his own hands, such men always order others to do their dirty work. I was held down and they cut my eye from my head. My screams of pain could be heard throughout the camp.

That was the moment my fellow prisoners knew, I was no human spy. I was one of them. It was they who helped me heal. For what little that could be done, a little water to bath my wounds. Extra food and helping hands to support me through my workdays. Kind words, that was a great boon after months of nothing but harshness and hatred.

That was my life for many years. A prisoner, one of many. I helped and was helped. Made a few friends. I marked the passage of the years only by the occasional visits of Lord Calladan, which came once a year. He came by to have me beaten and to mock me to my face with news of Kair, of the life I had lost. Of his new blacksmith that had taken up residence in both my home and forge.

Then came a day a week or so ago, I was called to meet a Lord. I assumed it would be Calladan, only the lord who was waiting for me was one I did not know. He was taller and broader than Lord Calladan. Clad in warrior’s armour and with a sword. All finely wrought, believe me, I may have lost an eye, but my remaining one still knows the signs of good metalwork. Black hair and a strong chin.

He told me that he had a task for me, that he was arranging for me to be taken and set free. My task was to find the half-orc leader of the rebels and deliver a message.”

“The warning?” Eriac asked.

“No, well yes. However, that was only part of his message. He said “tell my cousin the King knows of his camp, that he is setting a trap, moving armies in by ship behind you. “Fly North, into the mountains, before they close the noose around your neck, cousin” those were his exact words for you. The rest of the message was to say, “noble blood flows in your veins, cousin. It is not forgotten by all. Come find me, and we will see if we can set this Kingdom to rights.” I know nothing more than that. He did not even give me a name,” With a sigh, the blacksmith laid his head back his story finished and his need for rest growing.

All eyes were on Eriac, who nodded. “I know who this Lord is, or at least I suspect. However, we have no time. If his warning is true then we are still within the King’s trap. There is no advantage gained from warning us thusly. So I judge his current warning true, his words about the future I have my doubts on and will think more on. For now, we must change our course and strike north.” As he finished speaking he gave a whistle and a warg trotted up to the cart. Eriac leapt onto it and began shouting commands. The orcs already on the move turned to head north, as messengers were sent out to all stragglers and scouts. “Head North.”

Yor too summoned a warg, with a glance at his brother and the blacksmith he smiled and left the lovers alone. Or as alone as one can be with Gast a few foot away. Gor moved, getting down on his knees and then laying on the floor of the cart next to Krystof.

Seven years since the last time they had lain together. Seven horrible brutal and painful years. His hand reached out and his fingers laced between Krystof’s and he felt the human’s warmth resting against his chest. He could feel wetness on his cheeks as the two lay together once more. Gor swore to himself that he would never again leave the human’s side. Whatever lay ahead of the cart, they would face it together.

I have just published a brand new anthology of sexy orc stories, please see the information in the journal below for links on where you can buy a copy.

Orc anthology

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