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<<Previous| ** “ Strange Company"

I

2nd Duskfog, 37th Year of Macragge, 1329hours [Imperial Time]

Morlin remembered the exact moment he realised he kept particularly strange company. It was at the tense moment their blades locked together, and the force of their charge sent them both tumbling off the edge of the icy and treacherous mountain pass.

Nearly on the wrong side of thirty and a nice commission on his shoulders, duking it out with a powerful orcess on a mountainside deep behind enemy lines was the last place you'd expect to find General Morlin Ward. But, he'd always kept strange company. From the unusual characters in OCS, to the current bunch of suicidal young shits fresh out of the military academy ready to follow him through the gates of hell.

Case and point, Sergeant Perkins. Morlin imagined the young knight was going at it with similar aggression against Warchief Clottgraz, his solo confidence fuelled by the notion Morlin and the rest of the team were keeping re-enforcements at bay.

And finally, among Morlin's strange company was one of the enemy. Warchief Ghorza Yazgash, a bitch who simply refused to die no matter what Morlin threw at her these past few years.

Mind you, his conscience told him as they tumbled down the mountainside, this might be the fight that ended them both. The world beat the merciless crap out of them both as they rolled and bounced, before hitting a stable snow-dusted plateau far below.

Somewhere above them the rest of Morlin's team and Ghorza's bodyguards were still duking it out, the clashing of blades muted by the howling wind. Ghorza's armour meanwhile groaned and screeched as she shifted over the large rock she'd wrapped around on landing. Morlin at the same time tore off his helmet and dug through the snow for his fallen longsword.

His hand wrapped about the familiar worn leather grip just in time as Ghorza leapt forward, bringing her sword down as Morlin's came up. They clashed hard, locked together for a protracted moment that was illuminated by another shower of sparks.

Her body, only half dressed where the fall had stripped away some of her armour was pressed against Morlin's more lightly armoured form. He could feel her breasts, fairly bountiful pillows press against the soft leather sleeve over his arm as her leg practically wrapped about his in an attempt to prevent him from heaving her off. The position was uncomfortably sexual for a moment and Morlin felt his choler rise a little… along with a morbid little chub tightening his pants.

Ghorza snarled angrily as Morlin sneered back. Both seemed ready to kill each other by any means necessary, but some third-party influence made them stop.

Slowly, unanimously, the human and the orc eased off one another and slackened their stances. Their blades locked against each other quickly became just a ceremonial indication of their violent affair as they tore their eyes away to note the shadowy, cackling figures sliding about them in a loose ring.

Almost immediately the animosity towards each other was gone and both Morlin and Ghorza whipped around in an instant, pressing their backs together.

Melting out of the shadows came over a dozen humanoids, hunched evilly and covered in a mixture of spotted, mangy fur and rudimentary armour more poorly forged than even Ghorza's scant suit. With milky, feral eyes and frothing maws, the gnolls stalked out of every nook and cranny in the mountainside. Some clambered on all fours like the traditional hyena, others shifted edgily forward on narrow footpaws.

All of them were letting off mad cackling barks and licking their chops at the meal that had landed in their midst.

“Great," Morlin cursed. If there was one thing worse than orcs, it was bloodthirsty gnolls. And going by the way Ghorza broke off to go back-to-back, her feelings on the matter were mutual. “How about we put a pin in this?"

“You want to fight together?" Ghorza stated, rather than asked. “I thought you'd be too arrogant for the notion."

“Fuck it. We'll deal with these demonic things first, then we can get back to trying to kill each other." He turned his head to her slightly and added, “Deal?"

“Deal," Ghorza growled. She then vented her frustration with a battle-cry, lunging towards the nearest gnoll and pretending it was Morlin as she crushed the thing's skull.

23rd Emberglare, 2nd Year of Magdlein, 0852hours [Imperial Time]

Morlin was awake in an instant. He liked to think it was because he was a hardened special forces operator tempered in the fires of battle, and even in a sleep state was ever ready to fuck shit up with mechanical efficiency. Truthfully, the human had been softened a little by civilian married life.

Usually he'd be up at the crack of dawn, racing through the morning routine at first light so he could get the jump on his enemies. Now though he was only woken because Kari thudded across the room in those infernal high heels of hers and tore open the curtains, letting the harsh equatorial sun spill in and sock him in the face.

And even if his personal administrator were a knife wielding maniac, there wouldn't have been a thing he could do to stave off attack, as Morlin found himself laying flat on his back, the same position he'd fallen asleep in, with Ghorza laying on top of him and his semi-rigid cock still stuffed inside the orcess' cum glazed pussy.

The ambassadorial compound roasted under the blazing sun of the orc lands. The structure of steel and stone had once been a firebase deep in enemy territory, one Morlin and his team had visited often. In fact, he'd stayed in these very quarters a few times before. Back then they had been simply furbished officer's quarters.

After the peace treaty, the compound had become more of a ceremonial thing. Part way between an embassy and a military outpost. The same way much of the bulwarks and counter-siege equipment had been stripped away, so had the military amenities. The room, like many on the compound home to other human and orcish diplomats, were decorated in a civilian flair mixing the rich Imperial aesthetic with orc bare-bones tribal functionality.

The floor was a good example of that, heavy floorboards like railway sleepers over a hollow concrete cavity which amplified the sharp rap of Kari's high heels.

“Can you invest in some quieter footwear?" Morlin asked irately as Ghorza stirred on top of him.

Silhouetted in the beams of light blazing across the bed, he could tell Kari gave a smirk while she set her hands on her slim hips. The half-elf woman dressed quite suitably for her position as Morlin's glorified secretary. The administrator's tall, slight body was clad in a tight short skirt, a white blouse and a waistcoat that, along with her bra seemed to push up her otherwise small breasts. The top few buttons of her shirt were undone to draw even more attention to her cleavage.

In the back of his own mind Morlin knew the outfit would have been ruined if she didn't wear her customary heels and opaque tights.

The rest of Kari was equally well dressed. Her make-up was applied with precision reserved for professional care, and her blonde hair was done up in a tidy bun at the back of her head, a few stray strands framing the left side of her face. Were it not for her pointed ears she would have been mistaken for a human – albeit an unnaturally beautiful one. And she didn't quite come across as a full-blood elf either, being too short, too curvy and having a healthier mocha shade to her skin rather than the milky pallor of bony elves. She'd essentially inherited the best parts from her human mother and her elven father, and would no doubt grace the world with her loveliness for the next two-hundred-plus years.

Morlin just wished her tact was as good as her looks.

“You have a long day ahead, Morlin," Kari said shortly. She'd stopped calling him 'Mister Ward' a long time ago. “A couple of meetings, and then the feast hosted by the Orc Warlord in his keep tonight."

Morlin grumbled, making Ghorza chuckle slightly as she pinned her hands on his chest and sat up a little, the locks of her gradually growing red hair falling over the side of her face. They'd spoken briefly about the upcoming feast last night, then unanimously lost interest and fucked deep into the night rather than planning their speeches and going over the guest list.

Like so many things Morlin had been forced to sit for the sake of diplomacy, tonight's feast was bound to be a boring and stuffy affair. Over the past couple of months of his celebrity marriage to Ghorza Yazgash, strengthening the peace treaty between the Empire and the orcs, the odd couple had attended nationwide interviews, college campus talks, summits, noble dinners, play screenings, grand openings and all that sort of tedious shit. And worst of all, the whirlwind of fame was showing no sign of slowing.

There was of course a silver lining to that storm cloud. Ghorza and he had been treating every night like their wedding night, taking full advantage of the all-expenses paid, luxury suits they'd been offered everywhere they went. Though with the wanton destruction of every flat surface and plethora of mystery stains they'd left in their wake they'd no doubt pissed off their fair share of servants.

Last night had been their six-month wedding anniversary, and they had celebrated appropriately in a way the cleaners were sure to hate them.

“Can I call in sick today?" Morlin asked.

Kari shrugged, checking her diary – or technically it was Morlin's diary. “You could. But then you wouldn't get to meet the new orc counter-insurgency force."

Morlin's eyes brightened and he would have sat up were it not for Ghorza's weight pinning his chest. He opened his mouth to cheer, thankful of an unusually interesting assignment being thrown his way. He didn't make a sound bar a shuddering moan in time with his wife as she lifted herself off him at that moment.

His cock slipped out of her with a wet slurp, and a woman with less confidence than Kari would have blushed furiously, both at the lewd sound and the sight an emerald skinned orcess sliding out of bed and striding closer.

Ghorza paused close to Kari on her way to the bathroom, wrapping the half-elf administrator into a sisterly embrace. They hugged like old friends who hadn't seen each other in years, and even pecked one another on the cheek.

“Good morning, Ghorza," Kari said with a genuine sweetness she never extended to her official employer, and Ghorza returned the greeting in orcish before she disappeared into the bathroom.

“Gods, you two are so lesbigay," Morlin commented, to which Kari stuck her tongue out at him. She made the gesture of insult look far sexier than it needed to be.

Back to the subject of getting to inspect the new orcish counter-insurgency force in training, Morlin sat up with excitement. Though quite self-conscious of the fact he was butt-naked and his administrator was still in the room, that's where he stayed with the sheets pooled over his lap and his feet sticking out the bottom.

Though he hadn't weighed in on the issue during a summit some time ago, Morlin had been present during the briefing about dissident warbands in the orc lands harassing both the Warlord's ruling on the peace treaty and the Empire borders. Thanks to the peace treaty, the Empire didn't have the technical jurisdiction they had to send in troops. It would be up to the Warlord's loyal forces to deal with the issue, but his troops were better trained for stand-up fights, not the insurgency warfare the warbands were employing. So, King Magdlein offered an alternative which pleased the Orc Warlord greatly.

The Empire would lend a group of highly capable knights to train up the best and brightest orcs the Warlord could offer. It was a sort of 'military consultancy' arrangement. Imperial knights familiar with advanced warfare would teach the orc warriors to form and perpetuate their very own specialised unit.

“Are they on site? Who's training them? Anybody I know? Will they be running an exercise? Should I wear battle dress and take part?" Morlin was like a kid on Christmas morning, and though Kari couldn't deny it was cute, she rolled her eyes.

Squatting in a way that folded those elegant, gorgeous long legs of hers out to one side, Kari snatched up the pants Morlin had kicked off in a hurry among his other clothes last night and tossed them at the human, slapping him in the face with the garment.

“Just get dressed. I'll wait for you outside."

Pulling the pants from his face, he caught a glimpse of Kari's nicely shaped ass in her tight skirt, eyes following the sway of her hips as she sauntered haughtily out of the room. Kari certainly had a sexy way of moving, a sultry smoothness that even his wife hadn't quite mastered just yet. But Ghorza was learning by example, even now poking her head out of the bathroom to look and take mental notes.

“She is rather sexy, is she not?" She said when the half-elf closed the door on her way out. Then looking over, Ghorza saw her husband's erection tenting the tangled sheets, cock totally energised by Kari's casual display despite all the couple had done last night. “Something tells me you noticed though," she added with a smirk.

Morlin rolled his eyes, then rolled out of bed to get dressed.

II

23rd Emberglare, 2nd Year of Magdlein, 1009hours [Imperial Time]

They piled into the tight corridor, one knight at a time in quick succession. And even as they ran, each of the six rugged men tempered in the violent fires of boot camp and war watched their respective sectors with unwavering focus while letting loose with their crossbows, nailing targets on the fly.

Their advance was a choreographed dance. Each of the human soldiers knew exactly what they had to do, and at the same time what their battle-buddies were going to do. They read each other with ease, noting by the gentle tweaks, twitches and subtle hand motions how they ought to proceed through the maze of corridors and rooms.

Sergeant Clyde Perkins taking the spearhead, they delved into the dungeon with impunity. A goblin idling at the end of a corridor took a bolt to the head and thumped to the ground, Clyde and his peeps hardly slowed in their advance.

“Door left," he hissed in passing.

Behind him a pair of knights broke off, one kicking down the door while the other piled in. The repeater mechanism of his trim crossbow thunked out several bolts before the man called “clear!"

They re-joined the line of knights snaking deeper into the dungeon before the group had moved too far ahead.

“Door right. Door left. Hold. Corridor clear. Move up…" Orders came one after the other in rapid fire, but not once did Clyde's men let him down. As if they had rehearsed the assault for weeks the knights dashed about the place, shooting and reloading on the fly, eviscerating the goblins in their path with bolt and blade until finally they stacked up at the last chamber.

In the very back of the dungeon a hobgoblin's hoard awaited. Guarded by the fierce lord of this goblin tribe was a princess, a hostage Clyde and his knights were tasked with rescuing. A task that just so happened to be a speciality of theirs.

As they stacked up on either side of the metal door they checked their blades were ready, crossbow magazines topped up and pistols properly loaded.

Despite being what orcs might call a bit of a 'flash git,' Clyde followed the same routine of checks before cocking the attachment mounted to the foregrip of his own crossbow. He received the ready nod from his squad and pushed off the wall he used for support.

With a wide stance, bracing himself for the recoil, Clyde triggered the blunderbuss attachment on the underside of his crossbow barrel. The weapon let out a deafening roar, blasting the lock out of the wall and sending the door flying open.

Clyde pushed forward, shouldering the obstacle aside for good measure before snapping up his weapon again. The knights piled in behind him, running and gunning as each of them took only a millisecond to assess targets inside. Bolts thudded into targets. Blades rasped out of scabbards and slammed into armour and flesh. A pistol as drawn and the report left a faint ringing in everyone's ears and an acrid burning sensation in their nostrils.

Goblins on Clyde's left and right had little under a second to react before the knights cut them swiftly down. And covered by his battle-brothers, Clyde focused on the ripped, red-skinned hobgoblin directly ahead holding the kidnapped princess like a human shield. The hobgoblin's unarmoured head was the only target presented, a tiny mark no larger than a plate.

Clyde smirked. It was more than enough. His finger tightened, and he let loose a single shot, putting a steel bolt square between the hobgoblin's eyes.

The princess barely moved while the hobgoblin's head snapped back and the creature crumpled limply. Despite that though, the princess wobbled for a moment, then as if realising the hobgoblin's support was no longer present the straw dummy dressed in an out-of-fashion wedding dress teetered sideways and slumped to the ground.

“Dungeon clear! ENDEX! Make safe!"

The instructor overseeing the live-fire exercise herded out the avid orcs watching from the elevated observation gantries suspended over the plywood mock-up of a goblin den. The students were chomping at the bit to try the gauntlet Clyde had prepped for them one more time now they'd seen a group of pros run it.

A day ago the orcs Clyde was tasked with training for counter-insurgency warfare had made an absolute shambles of the exercise. More crossbow bolts ended up in the walls than in the goblins. A few of the instructors called out a few of the trainees as 'dead' for stumbling into traps or failing to put down a goblin target fast enough, leaving a miserable trio to attempt the breach of the hobgoblin's hoard. And even though they'd made it to the end of the goblin, the orcs had accidentally put more bolts in the princess they were meant to rescue than the hobgoblin.

It seemed hard to believe the young orcs had passed their native military selection at all. They were all fit of course, but Clyde quickly found out the orcish army didn't recruit based on mental fortitude.

Making their crossbows safe, the human knights bumped a few celebratory fists and removed their helmets before exiting the mock up dungeon. Clyde was last to exit.

If anything could have given away the fact it was an exercise, it would have been Clyde's outfit. He was crazy in his own way; after all, under General Ward's command he'd joined a group of suicidal little shits deep behind enemy lines with the singular task of fucking orc shit up. But even he wasn't crazy enough to go spelunking in goblin territory wearing naught but the standard tactical armour protecting his barrel and a pair of silky short-shorts covering his junk.

Clad in just his underwear, boots and minimal armour he'd run the gauntlet technically free-ballin'. It was an oddly freeing sensation, even if it did look ludicrously blasé. But that was just how Clyde rolled, and the orcs under his care seemed to love him for it.

They were a brash and rowdy bunch, as orcs ought to be. All fighting age, male and ripped for battle. They reminded Clyde a little of himself when he was first drafted into the military. He hadn't run from the opportunity to serve like some young men at the time. In fact he'd delved in headfirst eager to kick ass or die trying. Thankfully after a long campaign fighting the orcs he was now calling 'friend,' the latter never entered the equation.

His helmet tucked under one arm, crossbow resting on one shoulder, Clyde sauntered up to the orcs while one of the instructors was hazing them. The instructor was hoarse from yelling, but his colourful rhetoric intimidated them into shutting up and standing up straight.

“Thank you, instructor," Clyde said as the man stood by, his posture slightly hunched as if ready to pounce on the orcs again. “How was that, recruits!?"

“Fuckin' kick-ass, sir!" one of them bellowed.

“Your damn right it was. So, who wants to enlighten me on why we succeeded where you failed?"

The orcs glanced among one another uncertain for a moment before one in the back answered. “Well, it's kind of unfair, sir! You designed the mock up, you know how to run it!"

The instructor was on that orc like white on rice. “No points for stupid-ass comments, boot! Get on your fucking face!"

It was funny to see a hoarse and burly to the point of parody human glaring down at this bred-for-war greenskin face down, counting out push ups. Rewind only two years and such a sight would have been thought impossible. And yet, there it was.

“The instructors re-arranged the enemy locations and the layout of the mock-up before we ran it," Clyde explained calmly. “Try again."

The answer he was looking for was 'teamwork' and 'planning,' but none of them said anything and Clyde could tell he was losing the young greenskins. They sensed a long lecture rather than a chance to get stuck into a physical exercise, and some of them were already shutting down.

Orcs, particularly young male orcs were kind of like gnomish kids with ADD. They couldn't sit still for a damn minute, always had to be doing something.

But having worked with them so far, Clyde knew how to keep them engaged.

“Okay, so this one time…" Clyde started, suddenly grabbing their attention. It was the line he always led with when telling an off-colour joke, the only thing the orcs liked more than getting stuck into a physical exercise.

“We were stationed in the Orgur Mountains. We had a little outpost set up, nothing too fancy, and we're joined by this green as fuck recruit. The recruit meets the captain who gives him the tour. Shows him the barracks, tells him that if he's tired to go there and help himself to a bunk. Takes him to the kitchen next. Same idea. If he's hungry, help himself to some food. Takes him to the stables last and shows him the donkey. Captain tells the recruit if he's horny, come here and help himself to a ride.

“That night there's an unbelievable ruckus in the stables as the donkey is thrashing about and crying out. The captain leaps out of bed and goes investigating, busting into the stables to find the recruit, his pants around his ankles and balls deep in the donkey, fucking like there's no tomorrow. Captain asks him what the hell he's doing, and the recruit, still fucking with reckless abandon, refers to what he was told earlier; if he was horny he ought to help himself to a ride.

“Captain laughs and tells the dumbass he was supposed to get 'on' the donkey and ride down to town where the brothel was located."

The orcs laughed. Even the most humourless of the instructors recognised the joke and joined in with a hearty chuckle. It wasn't even Clyde's best, but he felt that so long as the subject matter was violent or lewd, orcs, particularly young males, would respond well.

As if to add fuel to the fire, a voice suddenly called out.

“And that, boys, is the story of how Sergeant Perkins lost his virginity."

Some of the orcs doubled over, then looked up to see a new trio of figures walk onto the range. Morlin and Ghorza were dressed casually compared to Kari. Morlin in a sleeveless shirt and pants, while Ghorza sported a set of lycra pants that ended just below the knees and a cropped hoodie, hiding what must have been some sort of sport's bra underneath. Both looked rather comfortable in the sweltering heat of the orcish summer, whereas Kari was pulling at her collar a bit and undoing a few more buttons on her top, to the point the lacy frame of her bra about her cleavage became apparent.

“General Ward, sir!" Despite referring to Morlin by his military title, Clyde didn't salute. Rather he moved forward and shook his friend's hand.

“Not a general anymore, Clyde."

“Yeah, well, never in a million years am I calling you Mister Yazgash," Clyde commented to both their amusement. Turning his gaze he looked Ghorza over as if only just seeing her. “Oh, and look! You brought the wicked witch."

Ghorza retorted by pulling a shocked expression. “By the Gods, the barbarian speaks fluent common! What a miracle!"

Morlin chuckled with a faint roll of his eyes. He didn't get to see Clyde or the others from his old team often, but whenever life threw them together, this was how Clyde and Ghorza typically behaved. Lifting his gaze he eyed the orc recruits Clyde was training, and noted how they were staring. Some had a slack-jawed expression, and all of them were awestruck.

They weren't paying heed to the tall tales Clyde had no doubt told them of General Morlin Ward, a knight who had slain countless orc warchiefs, since they weren't even looking at Morlin. Instead, they confirmed who they were staring at when the youngest in their group took a step forward, fist pressed to his chest.

“Warchief Yazgash!" He was practically stammering as he spoke. “Warlord spare me, it is really you!"

Ghorza flashed Clyde a smirk as she sauntered past. Morlin could have been amused at the sergeant's expression were his own eyes not declined slightly to eye the subtle sway in Ghorza's walk. Her lycra pants were moulded over her taught ass like a second skin, and Morlin could tell, having admired the view from this angle often, that his wife wasn't wearing panties. He wondered if anyone else could tell and felt his partial chub twitch excitedly at the prospect.

As Morlin had himself a surreal moment wondering why another man admiring his wife might excite him so, Ghorza walked over to the recruits, now gathering around excitedly, and returned the salute.

“Indeed it is me," she answered, a motherly tone Morlin hadn't heard in her voice before. It was an interesting manner for her to take and he made a personal note to ask her to use it in bed tonight.

The fighting age males turned into a gaggle of younglings meeting their hero. Some rattled off great victories she had secured during the war. Others cited the manoeuvres she had invented, or drills she encouraged upon the young men in the orcish army. The orcess had clearly been something of a military celebrity.

“Is it true," one orc asked, “that during one duel with General Ward you were forced to join together against a tribe of gnolls?"

With a grin, Ghorza nodded, and another orc asked, “I heard General Ward had you on the ropes before you were surrounded by the demons. But that can't be right, can it? Not for a warrior as great as you. I'm certain in one-on-one combat you could have defeated the general."

Several of the orcs nodded in agreement, but Ghorza didn't answer. She instead glanced over her shoulder at Morlin with a smile as they shared a chuckle. Which of them was the greater warrior was something neither had asked for a long time now. Hardly seemed relevant since they were on the same side now. They had their personal little duels every night, although one might argue there were no winners in those contests.

Clyde on the other hand marched over like a drill instructor smelling weakness. “Can it, boot! You realise you're talking about the badass motherfucker who invented these tactics your eager to learn right?" He pointed at the dungeon mock up, and the excited chatter petered out. The men straightened a little and stood to better attention as Clyde marked down their ranks, eying them suspiciously.

“Besides," he continued to say, throwing Ghorza a glance as he moved between her and his trainees who were acting like a mob of Comic-Con nerds, “Miss Yazgash a pushover and General Ward a big softy. If it were me, I'd have torn her apart six times over."

The young orcs seemed to like that too and started smiling. Clearly Clyde had shown them a thing or two he was capable of on the battlefield. Clyde had been a warrior for much of his life, and the fact his rather handsome aesthetic hadn't been marred in the same kind of scars like on Ghorza or Morlin spoke in volumes of his skills. In fact, Morlin and his peeps use to make fun of him for it all the time, stating he was way too pretty to be in the military.

But Ghorza was an orc, and in her eyes the fact Clyde had no noticeable scars meant one thing. He wasn't fit to talk down on her combat prowess.

Setting her hands on her hips she watched him with a look that made Morlin chuckle and mutter out the corner of his mouth, “Oh, you're in for it now, Clyde."

The sergeant snorted, meeting Ghorza's glare. “Look, it's nothing personal, sweetheart. I'm just saying, if given the opportunity, I would have put you down quick and easy."

“Is that so?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, cocking her hips in the opposite direction in such a sweet display, Morlin felt his pants tighten a little.

“Yup."

Her eyebrows arched a little. “We should put that theory to the test then, shouldn't we?"

Turning she unzipped her hoodie and threw it to Kari in passing, sauntering to one of the sparring rings in a sexy warrioress way that only she could pull off. The training grounds on the compound were dominated by Clyde's mock-up dungeon and a firing range, currently abandoned as practicing knights and orc bodyguards moved closer to see what the fuss was about. The exercise yard furnished with weights forged out of scrap metal and other improvised machinery fell silent as the exercising members of staff gathered to investigate.

The ring itself was essentially a circle of soft sand surrounded by a thick piece of rope marking the boundaries. There were some flecks of red in the sand that Ghorza trampled over nonchalantly, indicating exactly how brutal an orc sparring mat could become.

It was perhaps for that reason Clyde didn't move, merely staring with surprise as Ghorza wheeled about and set her hands back on her wide hips in a challenge. Morlin noted with amusement how the young sergeant's eyes flitted up from where they'd followed the sway of her ass.

“What's the matter sergeant?" she asked, her voice testy and song-song. “Afraid to join me?"

Clyde tried to look casual. “Well, I'm teaching a class right now, so…"

The group of young orc trainees rushed to the ringside, their faces lit up with joy.

One called, “We don't mind, sir."

“Yeah, we'd love to see your hand-to-hand combat skills," another admitted, followed by some other words of encouragement from the trainees eager to see another live demonstration.

Perkins hesitated and glanced at Morlin. “I'm not going to kick the shit out of my best friend's wife."

That made Morlin grin. Clyde was clearly trying to weasel his way out of this. “No, you should definitely put your money where your mouth is, Clyde," he said and noted how the sergeant turned a shade whiter.

Clyde's throat bobbed as he gulped, looking over the gathering spectators, then considered the ravishing orcess waiting for him in the sand. She'd stripped down to a sports bra with the same kind of second-skin fit as her pants. She might as well have been wearing nothing, and Clyde was suddenly conscious of the fact he'd shown up for today's exercises in naught but his shorts and tactical armour. Was he really comfortable wrestling his friend's barely dressed wife into submission while half naked himself?

Still, the challenge had been laid out and he wasn't getting out of this easy. So, handing over his helmet and crossbow, Clyde made his way over – a general stockiness to his motions rather than Ghorza's sultry confidence.

“Alright, but if we're going to do this, no touching the-…"

He was going to lay some rules about hair, face and balls, but Ghorza had leapt on him already. Morlin's erection pulsed a little as he watched, reminded of his very first time with Ghorza, the way she'd attempted to dominate him. She'd learned a few things in the meantime, and instead of going in throwing punches, the orc moved with a fluid kind of grace. Her athletic legs wrapped about Clyde's torso and she took him down in a second flat. They rolled on impact with the ground and when the dust cleared, Clyde was flat on his back, his face trapped between her strong thighs as Ghorza sat on his chest.

“Quick and easy, huh?" Ghorza gloated as she lifted her weight off him a little. It was with a little sense of disappointment that she stood up, not for having dropped Clyde so easily, but dismayed that she had to let him up without teaching him a thorough lesson first.

Back in the day Ghorza would have pressed her quim to his mouth and disciplined him for an hour or two. Unfortunately they were in 'civilised' company at the moment, so she elegantly climbed to her feet and helped the bewildered human up.

“I, uh… I wasn't ready," Clyde said. A lame excuse, Ghorza was sure, but the crowd seemed to buy it, since they cheered when he suggested, “Best two out of three?"

Ghorza shrugged, then darted forward again. With luck she could catch him unaware again and drop him quick. But again, her desire to pin Clyde down came less from the need to win and more of a nagging hunger to get him between her thighs again. She noted in the way he moved Clyde was a spry young man, a little quicker and more fit than Morlin. He was more her age, Ghorza guessed, and despite the lack of wear and tear of battle and age she could see why Clyde might catch the eye of many young human women.

This time Clyde defended himself from a series of blows and grapples until Ghorza leapt forward again. She was trying to get his head between her legs like before, but this time he saw the manoeuvre coming. Raising an arm to push her off, only half registering the softness of her breasts on his hand, he threw Ghorza face down and got her arm behind her back.

It took some application of his weight and some back and forth struggling, but he managed to twist her arm behind her back and bend her over. Ghorza's knees and free hand sank into the sand under Clyde's weight as he doubled over on top of her, practically pressing her face into the ground in order to hold her still.

Certainly that meant a point to Clyde, but Ghorza felt she was still a winner, considering their position. She loved when Morlin bent her over like this, and wondered what pleasures Clyde could offer her the same way.

“Interesting technique, sergeant. But sloppy execution. If I didn't know better I'd say you're a little distracted." She smirked over her shoulder at him, then pressed back a little tighter. The globes of her lycra clad ass wrapped about the growing bulge in his shorts and started to stroke up and down, drawing a hot little spasm out of Clyde's nethers.

Ghorza couldn't help clench at the same time, her tunnel moistening with excitement and muscles yearning to clamp about the hard rod of flesh warming between her cheeks.

Clyde leapt off her so quickly he forgot to offer her a hand up. The orcess didn't seem to mind though as she straightened and turned to face him again. They were tied, and in something of a stalemate for the moment. Ghorza, in her stance and with her expression alone goaded Clyde to come and get some more, and Clyde was still conscious of his best friend sitting not even five metres away watching him wrestle intimately with the married woman.

“Sergeant!" one of the orcs called out and threw in a wooden shortsword.

It was just what the doctor ordered, apparently, as Clyde caught it with ease, flipped his grip back and forth then swung at Ghorza. It seemed a no-holds-barred attack, yet the woman avoided with ease by leaning back and sidestepping. She kept her forearms up to guard her face, despite the angry lashes the training weapon might leave on her flesh. Some bruises were more desirable than a broken nose.

Ducking under a sweep at her neck, Ghorza moved in and locked Clyde's arm in her grip as he tried to thrust the wooden blade up into her ribs. At the same time, Clyde meant to try and push her off with a hand on her neck. though for reasons unknown, and a mystery that shall remain a mystery until this day, the well trained, highly skilled and crack-shot-accurate knight reclusively missed his mark. Instead he grabbed her a little lower and with a sense of horror felt his fingers sink into the soft, warm flesh of Ghorza's right breast.

She gasped, though not with shock or offence if her smile was anything to go by. Narrowing her eyes at him, she reached out and returned the favour, groping the human's balls firmly enough to make him jump.

Coughing with surprise, Clyde threw a look to Morlin, who surveyed the situation and offered an innocent shrug.

Morlin was sitting back in a deck chair and watching the impressive show of hand-to-hand combat with literally zero fucks to give. He had a decent enough view of the ass-kicking his wife was laying down on his friend, tucked to the back of the spectators where the instructors and orcs couldn't see him. And that was probably a good thing.

Moments before they'd married, Morlin had plotted and schemed about turning his orc wife-to-be into a spectator for his future sexual adventures. Granted, the scheme had been a facetious fancy dreamt up by his frustration with the situation. But since clicking with Ghorza, and since she'd on several occasions teased Morlin for his sidelong glances at other women, Kari included, he found himself reclusively aroused by the concept of watching the stunning orcess work her magic on another man. He knew what she was capable of in bed, and he was morbidly curious to see how another man might (try) to handle her.

Clyde, case point and example. Just watching him spar with Ghorza, both of them barely dressed, breathing heavily, sweating profusely and wrapping each other into a series of holds and tackles worked Morlin to an erection in no time. It offered an obvious bulge in his lap as it strained against the front of his pants.

Kari, sitting in the chair next to him, was the only one to notice though as everyone was more fixated on the scantily clad orc giving Clyde a run for his money. Leaning over, the half-elf boldly reached out with a slender hand, and pretending to pat him on the leg, delved forth a little further and pressed her palm down on his growing erection. Morlin tried not to react as she firmly rubbed up and down, the friction of her sleek hand sending tingles of pleasure through his loins.

“You're enjoying this," she said, her voice taking on a chiding tone. But there was something else to her voice that excited Morlin to no end. He almost expected her to utter a playful little 'naughty-naughty.'

Alas. It was probably for the best in the end. Kari had one of those voices, she could probably make him bust by cooing sweet mischief into his ear.

Meanwhile, Clyde paid for his moment of inner conflict. While he was trying to deal with his throbbing arousal prodding the soft flesh between Ghorza's thighs and his fleeting glances for approval in Morlin's direction, the orcess took charge as she was ought to do.

Wrapping a leg about his waist she slipped a hand around his neck and pulled back with all her might. The duo disappeared into the sand and rolled like before. And when the dust settled, Ghorza was sitting victoriously on top the human, the wooden sword discarded beside them.

Straddling the sergeant, leaned forward so she could keep him pinned with her hands on his chest-plate, Ghorza noted the rigid pole between her thighs. Unlike massaging it between the globes of her ass before, this time the shaft was wrapped between the swollen lips of her yoni. With little more than a thin veil of lycra separating their flesh, Ghorza released a heated breath as rocking back and forth sent electric shivers through her clit. She had to bite her lip so she wouldn't gush all over the enticing length Clyde offered. He wasn't as thick as her husband, but with some curious grinding she gauged he was probably at least an inch longer.

She was reticent to try anal with Morlin considering her man was quite thick, but she figured with Clyde the act would be quite comfortable. Her mind wandered into a fantasy of the untouched depths his crown might plunder if only she could slide him up between the soft globes of her ass right there.

The cheers from the side-lines drew Ghorza out of the fancy, and looking up she realised she held the winning point.

Leaping up, she held out a hand and once more helped Cyde to his feet. This time however there was no hiding that impressive bulge of arousal tenting the front of his shorts. Ghorza chuckled, boldly reaching out and wrapping her fingers about the impressive length. The fabric of the shorts was thin enough she could feel the heat of the rod and enjoyed how it pulsed against her palm as she gave a mischievous little squeeze.

“I'm flattered," she commented flirtatiously as her fingers drifted from erection.

“You're, uh… you're welcome." Clyde scratched the back of his head and added sheepishly, “Best four out of five?"

As Ghorza was stepping out of the ring, she looked over her shoulder with a seductive little smile, eyes flitting down to the throbbing bulge in his shorts one last time. “I'd love to," she said, taking Morlin's proffered arm, then added almost regretfully, “But you have a class to teach. Perhaps another time?"

Clyde didn't answer, merely offering a wave which Morlin returned.

As they were leaving they could hear the louder instructor hazing the trainees on Clyde's behalf. “What the fuck are you staring at, boot!? You never seen a heterosexual man get an erection from getting his ass kicked? Get on your face and count to infinity! One-two-three-four…!"

As they walked back to their quarters to get ready for the next meeting, Morlin slipped his arm around Ghorza's waist. His fingers boldly slid down the sleek bare flesh of her trim mid-riff, and looking to make sure Kari was engrossed in the diary she carried everywhere, he reached down and gave her deliciously taught ass a brazen squeeze.

“You enjoyed that way more than you should have," he commented, noting how hot Ghorza was to the touch. Even as he merely gave her a little squeeze she moaned softly and pressed a little tighter against him.

“Someone had to put the sergeant in his place."

“He's kind of hot though, right?" Morlin teased with a smirk. His fingers slipped down her hip, under the waistband of her pants and into the pillowy folds of her quim that were slick with excitement. “Something tells me you noticed already though."

Ghorza rolled her eyes the same way Morlin had when she teased him for ogling Kari… then flashed a smirk of her own to confirm he was right. And oddly, that was just as arousing for Morlin as everything else they did together.

III

23rd Emberglare, 2nd Year of Magdlein, 1815hours [Imperial Time]

The Warlord's keep on the edge of the orc capitol was as any military fortress would be. Immense impenetrable perimeter walls, bladed portcullis bars that had broken centuries of assaults, murder holes in every surface from which archers watched every movement outside and inside and guards on every tower and wall.

Inside was a large cylindrical structure that was the Warlord's personal home. It was at least twenty times the size of the countryside estate Morlin had been given by King Magdlein as a wedding gift – ironic actually that Morlin thus far hadn't spent enough time in his new home to really confirm if the comparison was correct.

The windows were lit by lanterns and torches within, and across the courtyard from where Morlin and the women flanking him approached the main doors hung open like a yawning maw. Inside was the noise of war drums and loud festivities, which already put this feast a few notches above the stuffy noble parties he and Ghorza had attended thus far.

Holding onto his arm, his wife wore a long crimson dress, a slit up to her hip revealing her right leg every step she took. Kari wore the same dress as far as Morlin was aware, only in black. Though he seemed afraid to comment and showing off exactly how little he knew of Imperial fashion.

Morlin was in his old dress uniform, the same he'd been married in. He was a typical conservative old soldier in that respect, falling back on old familiar as often as he could.

The trio were led into the keep proper where Morlin had to do a double take. It was definitely nothing like the human and elven noble parties they'd attended before.

Formal dress was not the norm among orcs, all the greenskins filling the feast hall clad in the usual stripped down casual rags, or in some cases battle armour. Weapons were being brandished everywhere, with contests of strength and swagger all over the place. Several orcs were punching out their disagreement, while another pair were engaging in a match of arm-wrestling – made all the more exciting by the exposed nails hammered into the table ensuring the loser would need a tetanus shot.

Some of the orcs were female, lounging in armour similar to what Ghorza used to wear into battle. Skimpy, but at the same time protective. One even used a smaller orc on hands and knees mopping a spilled ale as a foot stool as she conversed with another warrior who had a servant girl bent over one of the tables

The young women given charge of passing around drinks and cleaning up sporadic messes seemed in a compromised position, their uniforms rather skimpy and in some cases non-existent as they tried to gather empty mugs while avoiding shots of cum from the males watching their bare bodies intently. A few were pinned in chairs or bent over tables and ravaged into a moaning stupor.

The servants weren't in a totally compromised position though, as they were still orcs. And it seemed if they weren't down to fuck, they weren't having any nonsense.

Those who groped the servants and were swatted away were put in their place quite quickly with a mean stare of some firm words. The men who were handed a drink thanked the girl accordingly and minded their own business. Nobody was grabbing any of the servants and holding her down to have their way if she wasn't into it. It always seemed to start with a rather blatant proposal, and it was up to the servant girl whether or not she wanted to bend over or lift a leg to let a throbbing length of hard meat slide up into her.

Between the lewd orcish art adorning the walls, the public mating, the noise of fighting and heavy drums and the dizzying smell of sweat and sex, Morlin felt like he'd been thrown through an interdimensional rift into another world. Ghorza however flashed him a broad grin, feeling quite at home. No doubt she'd seen plenty of these affairs back in the day.

Scanning the room again, Morlin noted the memo of how to approach one of the servant girls for a bit of lewd fun hadn't reached everyone. One orc, a fairly standard specimen of green meat in a fur kilt and some leather straps forming an X over his chest and doing nothing to hide his pot-belly reached out to grope one of the females. He slid a hand boldly under her short skirt and savoured himself a handful of her ass, though no doubt his stubby fingers slipped between her thighs at the same time to get a feel of the more sensitive flesh within. The girl gasped, but didn't hesitate in whipping around and dusting the orc in the face.

Most impressive, and it made Morlin chuckle, was the fact she decked him onto his ass with one clean hit, and didn't spill a drop of the three ales she was carrying in her free hand. Saying something guttural in orcish that Morlin didn't quite catch, the woman fixed her dress before she trotted off to deliver drinks and the decked orc started picking himself up.

Turning his gaze as he dusted himself off, the orc spotted Kari who had turned to observe some of the art on the keep walls depicting bloody battles and glistening orgies. Eying the half-elf's deliciously slender figure from top to bottom, the orc started forward, hand moving out ahead of him.

Morlin saw the groping before it happened and moved to react, but Ghorza was faster.

Darting forward she grabbed the orc by the wrist, forced him to turn and face her then planted a hand in his bare chest, shoving him back a few paces despite his height over Ghorza.

The orc seemed offended at first, then he looked at the green skinned woman clad in a human fashioned dress with surprise and recognition. “Ghorza Yazgash." His expression dropped darkly.

“Hello, Grok."

“Friend of yours?" Morlin asked as he squared up beside his wife.

“In a manner of speaking. Before the treaty was even a consideration I was arranged to be wed to this worthless chunk of green meat." Ghorza's flippant comment made Grok snarl angrily.

“And you were months away from being mine," Grok snarled, “If not for the stupid humans! Now in this mockery of a peace treaty you've been given as a plaything to this puny human! A waste of perfectly good breeding stock!"

Ghorza snorted. “The warlord had yet to deem you worthy. All you had to do was prove yourself through a single combat victory, and you couldn't even manage that. You lost my hand and body in marriage for your own limp short fallings, Grok!" Jerking forward, she snarled in a way that made Grok take a surprised step back. “You are not a true orc," she added with a wicked little smile.

She knew Grok for who he truly was. Not a warrior or a worthy male, but for a bully and a weasel. He had led his troops in the war with fear of lash and blade, commanding troops to their death far behind walls and armies, whereas the likes of Ghorza led by example on the front line similar to Morlin. It was one of his traits she admired, dare she say even made her hot even while they had been enemies.

Clenching his fists, it seemed Grok might lunge forward swinging. Morlin stepped between the orcs, glaring the larger creature down. Again, like he had in Ghorza's face, the larger orc backed up cautiously. Morlin knew the type of coward. They talked big game, but when it came to action they were easily enough found wanting.

“Go get a drink, little man," Morlin warned darkly.

“Or what?" Grok snapped.

“Or," Morlin said, raising his voice over the cacophony filling the keep, “I'm going to have to show every orc here how you have more in common with a prepubescent elven girl!"

Silence fell across the chamber as the high pitched moans of fucking and the thrums of the war drums faded. A few chairs scraped on the flagstones as a few orcs stood to get a better look. In the corner of his eye Morlin saw the Warlord was watching very closely, intrigued.

Despite his gutless swagger, Grok wasn't best pleased. For a female to accuse a male of not being a true orc was one thing. But for another male to question his masculinity was something else entirely.

The Warlord gave an impressed nod, then rose to his feet. His booming voice commanded immediate attention from every orc in his keep, and some heads even bowed in respect.

“A challenge has occurred! Do you, nephew" – his gaze jerked to Grok who quickly averted his gaze – “accept the challenge laid out by Morlin Ward!?"

“I do," Grok snarled as the Warlord rounded the feast table and plodded closer, every heavy footfall in full armour sending tremors through the ground.

“Very well." Morlin was almost winded by the Warlord's voice as he stood over the pair. “The test of true orcs begins. Ghorza Yazgash, will you arbitrate?"

Ghorza kept her chin up as she nodded and stepped forward. “I will."

Several orc servant girls appeared with buckets and sponges appeared and took Ghorza to one side, seating her at one of the side tables. Morlin had read of the challenge between orcs before, but seeing his wife take the seat of arbitrator made him slightly uncomfortable.

There were two aspects to being an orc. The ability to fight and the ability to please your woman. In a challenge like this, the latter was tested first by an elected arbitrator, in this case Ghorza.

With an erection evident in his pants and a sleazy grin across his face, Grok leapt forward with almost too much enthusiasm, causing a knee jerk reaction in Morlin. He too tensed forward, but sensing it the Warlord held him back with a large hand on his shoulder.

“Have faith in your woman, boy," he growled lowly, and Morlin could only watch as Grok seemed ready to jump on Ghorza and get a free ride.

That didn't happen of course, as Ghorza kicked up and put her high heel painfully in Grok's throat. He gagged and dropped to his knees at her feet, where Ghorza's legs dexterously spread open. Under her dress she didn't seem to be wearing panties, as Morlin had discovered was a trending norm for her. At past parties when they were bored out of their skulls they'd snuck off to a bathroom somewhere to make their own fun.

One leg cocked out to the side, her other calf hooked around Grok's neck and pulled him in towards her yoni.

“No free pussy for you, Grok," Ghorza snarled confidently. “You'll prove your worth first."

Snorting, Grok glanced back at his uncle the Warlord then set to work.

Morlin surprised himself the same way he had when Ghorza had been sparring with Clyde. Whereas earlier that day, which Clyde and Ghorza had been going at it with violence of action, Morlin hadn't been worried compared to now. Seeing his wife get a little intimate with another man didn't bother him. But now, with Grok lapping his tongue between Ghorza's thighs, even though she was theoretically in less danger than when Clyde started swinging a training sword, Morlin had the uncontrollable desire to step in and give Grok a pavement facial.

Little did he know at the time, there was something to be said for the type of man getting intimate with Ghorza. Whereas Clyde was well trusted and had proved himself reliable and honourable to Morlin time and time again in the past, Grok was a dick in every sense of the word; and he could make that judgement despite only having been aware of his miserable existence for less than ten minutes.

The opinion seemed shared among other orcs as they chuckled at Grok's lacklustre attempts to please Ghorza. He got stuck into her quim without any decorum or technique. He just started licking and motorboating like he might do between a pair of large breasts. Though forgetting entirely that all the sensitive nerve clusters were behind the lips of her quim, he didn't seem to realise how little he was doing.

It was only when Ghorza gave a loud yawn that he looked up to note the bored look in her eyes.

“Are you done embarrassing yourself?" she asked plainly, making Grok frown.

He paused mid lick across her thigh, then slowly, uncertainly even, shook his head. Ghorza sighed with a roll of her eyes, then planted her foot on his forehead and shoved him hard. Grok tumbled back and landed hard on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The servants with the buckets sponged Ghorza down by the time the Warlord lifted his hand from Morlin's shoulder. He moved forward as the girls finished, the orcess massaging between Ghorza's thighs pulling away to reveal she'd done more for Ghorza's pleasure than Grok's fumbling.

As he was stepping up, Morlin glanced at Grok who growled venomously. He pretended not to notice, preferring this didn't escalate. He'd intended for this to remain a brow-beating match rather than a physical contest. Not that he was afraid to fight Grok, the orc looked like a pushover. He just felt it might not look good for the lone human diplomat in a keep full of orcs pummelling the Warlord's nephew into the gound.

“A bit of performance anxiety, dear?" Ghorza teased, the room silent enough for all to hear her.

He harrumphed, then pushed her over. Her legs wrapped around her waist, Morlin set his hand over her neck and pinned her flat on the table, leaning over her heavily.

“I don't remember giving you permission to speak, woman," he growled.

Ghorza immediately slapped him across the face, hard enough to leave a mark and physically turn his head to one side. Locking his glare on her again, Morlin reached up in time to catch Ghorza's wrist before she laid another blow to his face and slammed her hand into the table beside her head, forcefully holding her down as she began to struggle against him.

The whole affair had the spectators leaning closer with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as some of them seemed convinced the display would turn into a battle to determine which of them was the greater warrior once and for all. Kari on the other hand rolled her eyes and took a seat. The typical foreplay between Morlin and Ghorza was all too known to her and the display had lost its aggressive splendour where she was concerned.

Grabbing her other wrist, Morlin held Ghorza down and made her gasp as he bit into one half of her dress and pulled it aside. The plunging neckline made it easy for him to pop out one of her breasts without tearing the dress that he figured had left a fairly hefty dent in his bank account. Not that he would ever hesitate to rip a dress off his wife. Her body was worth every penny and more.

Holding her down he dipped his head and wrapped his lips around her exposed nipple, suckling and licking with a swirling motion. Ghorza reacted immediately, her bare crotch grinding against the front of his pants, no doubt leaving a wet patch as she began to moan breathlessly. Her struggling eased off a little, but didn't fade entirely and Morlin knew better than to let her go entirely. A few weeks ago he'd let her free before totally subduing her and he'd ended up underneath her for the rest of the night. Arguably he'd still been in a good position though.

Nibbling the tender flesh he heard Ghorza let out a little cry before her struggling turned into squirming. Recognising the cue, he let go of her wrists and slid his fingers down every inch of her sleek body, tracing the blemishes and scars left in her emerald flesh by a long war.

He traced up her arms, down her sleek armpits and across her ribs, following the hourglass curves tapering to her waist then back up to squeeze her bountiful breasts. While his tongue and teeth worked one nipple, he pinched the other and twisted gently, feeling his wife convulse under him a moment, then slid his hands down again to find the lovely curves of her wide hips.

Feeling at the perfect globes of her ass for a moment, one hand slid up her inner thigh and found her drenched lips that had been dryer than a desert when Grok had been foolishly lapping wildly. Morlin didn't even press his fingers between the swollen lips and they were coated in her arousal by simply tracing a circle across the outer labia.

She bucked against his touch, another moan escaping her dark lips before Morlin pulled back and finally knelt between her thighs. Ghorza didn't even sit up to dominate him like she'd done Grok. She remained on her back, submissive and wanting to the tongue that probed her eager bald lips, and nearly screamed with ecstasy as he started to give her body what it so yearned.

Long up and down strokes, he made sure to dip the tip of his tongue teasingly into her opening with every pass, lapping up the sweet honey that ran in rivers down her thighs. Morlin felt it drip from his chin as he swirled over her clitoris, then worked downward again.

Nearly a minute of Ghorza's gasping, keening songs of pleasure filled the chamber rousing an erection in every male watching. Some couldn't help stroke their lengths as they spectated, and a few desperately requested their female lovers to get on their knees and work some magic before they went insane. Even the female warrior who'd been using an orc as a footstool had pulled the poor guy between her thighs and was ordering him to give her the same kind of attention.

Not long after Ghorza came, squirting as the familiar but torrid sensations took her over. Her legs kicked up in the air, twitching and trembling as she bucked uncontrollably against Morlin's face and squirted hard enough to leave a wet patch on her skirt and her husband's shirt.

Wearing his woman's juices almost like a medal of honour, the smiling human pulled back. At the same time Ghorza lost all sense of her duty as arbitrator in this contest. Pushing Morlin back, she jumped to her feet and locked her mouth on his in a passionate kiss, still shuddering as she was still cumming. Her tongue lapped up her own juices with a contented moan as the wet sounds of their caress was drowned out by the roars of approval from the spectators. Even Kari was jumping on the spot, clapping loudly.

When he kiss broke, the couple looked over to the Warlord who watched with approval. But as everyone seemed focused on the victorious human and his orc wife, none bar Morlin noted how Grok roared angrily and leapt to his feet.

Dashing forward with a tantrum range, the orc started swinging his fists with the same lack of skill he showed for pleasuring Ghorza. Morlin caught the charge in the corner of his eye and quickly pushed Ghorza to one side, then jumped to the other as Grok ploughed through the space between them. He slammed a hammer-like fist down on the table where Ghorza had been sitting, reducing it to splinters before turning on Morlin.

His hand instinctively went for his sidearm, but he thought the better of it. He wasn't a general anymore, this wasn't a time of war and he wasn't going to kill an orc in the Warlord's keep.

Ghroza didn't seem to share the sentiment. Pulling over her dress she yanked a punch dagger from where it was hidden on her garter and leapt forward with shocking dexterity considering the tightness of her cocktail dress and her high heels. She barely stumbled, sliding the blade into the back of Grok's leg and tearing out to one side, forcing the towering orc to his knees.

Morlin reacted at the same time, turning and up-ending a nearby chair by the leg before slamming his forearm into the frame. The old furniture creaked under the blow as Morlin tore the leg free and swung it around like a baton. The wood splintered across Grok's face and spun him around.

He turned with the blow to face Ghorza unsteadily, turned again to face the Warlord, then spat out several teeth before crumpling on the spot.

Morlin dropped the remains of the chair leg then watched as the Warlord looked between him and Ghorza, then down at his unconscious nephew. The tension hung thick enough in the air for a moment, you could cut it with a knife…

The Warlord threw his head back and laughed loudly. The sound filled the chamber and even continued to drown out the other orcs who joined in.

Loping forward, the Warlord picked up Grok like a rag doll and personally tossed him out of the keep. As Grok went skidding down the steps leading down into the city, the Warlord slammed the door shut and held up his fists, roaring with a happiness Morlin honestly thought the orc was incapable of.

“A true orc need only do two things! Fight and please his woman! Grok can do neither! But this human!" He rushed over and grabbed Morlin b the shoulder and shook him affectionately. “This human does both! I welcome you, Morlin Ward, into our fold!"

There was a cacophony of roars from the other orcs in the room. None seemed to be as dense as Grok to disagree with their Warlord, and belted out their approval at the tops of their lungs. Even the females joined in. The nearest, though she didn't roar as loudly as the others, was instead looking Morlin up and down with a heated look in her eye before looking to Ghorza with obvious envy.

Some of the orcs even lifted their hands in a claw-like gesture, the traditional salute usually reserved for when a young orc came of age and was blooded. In their eyes, Morlin had become one of them.

The Warlord smiled, a gesture that looked odd on his heavy-set face. But it was genuine enough to put Morlin at ease as the mighty orc clapped him painfully on the back, then threw a gesture to Ghorza.

“Now take your prize so that we may feast!" he said – nay, demanded.

Ghorza turned on the spot, planting her hands on the feast table and bending over slightly. Not an exaggerated position by any means, but it was enough for the taught dress she wore to pull tightly over the globes of her ass. With a smile over one bare shoulder, she gave him one of those 'come hither' looks that never failed to get Morlin hard.

“Yes, husband," she said with a subtle wag of her hips. “Your prize awaits."

Smiling, Morlin sauntered up behind Ghorza. The rest of the night could only be described as legendary…

23rd Emberglare, 2nd Year of Magdlein, 2301hours [Imperial Time]

The diplomatic compound was quiet bar the soft chatter of firewatch guards on patrol, and a high-pitched giggle cutting into the cool night air.

Morlin wasn't sure he'd ever seen Kari tipsy before. Mind you, he'd had one too many orcish ales himself, so maybe he was the tipsy one and was misconstruing Kari's demeanour. Then again, she was hanging off Ghorza's arm, swaying uncontrollably as the pair chattered and giggled like rosy cheeked teenagers coming home from the disco.

Following a few paces behind, Morlin heard Clyde before he saw him.

“Gods, you two are lesbigay."

The women stopped and looked over to see Sergeant Clyde Perkins sitting in the stone steps leading into a common barracks. He was decked out in full kit, wearing battle dress fatigues under his high-speed-low-drag tactical armour. His helmet dangled from his belt, with a sword and crossbow across his back and the glowing remains of a cigarette pursed between his lips.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go, sergeant?" Kari asked haughtily, her smile fading.

“Nah." Clyde found his feet as he flicked the glowing blunt in the sand and blew some smoke politely away from the gathering. “Taking my orc adoptees out for a night on the town. We're acting QRF for an orc operation in the capitol. What are you lightweights still doing up?"

“We're just back from the feast," Kari started to say in a matter-of-factly tone before Ghorza moved forward.

She slinked over with cat-like grace, the kind she'd learned from Kari, and slid one arm over his shoulder before hooking her hand onto his back. Her hips pressed to his at the same time, face angled slightly upward at the surprised human. Smiling all the time and exhaling the tell-tale waft of booze she said: “I can take you no matter how much I drink. How about it, sergeant?"

She nodded suggestively at the diplomatic quarters nearby and added, “Care for that rematch?"

He gulped, though seemed to about it. “W-what? Now? In the bedroom?"

Clyde threw his bewildered look at Morlin, who merely wagged his eyebrows suggestively. At the same time, Ghorza peeled herself from the sergeant and returned to Kari who was giggling at his expense.

“Think about it, sergeant." She sauntered off, her fingers tracing his jawline as she went. “Just please don't take too long."

He watched them head into the diplomatic quarters, eyes bobbing from side to side as he was quite obviously following the sway of Ghorza's curvy hips. It was only when the hypnotic display of her well-fitted dress was cut off by the door shutting behind her that Clyde glanced down and noticed his erection tenting the front of his pants.

“Oh, for fuck's sake! Now I gotta deal with this while on patrol?" Pointing at Morlin, he added, “That wife of yours is a pest, you know that? You better deal with that situation."

Laughing, Morlin shrugged. “Y'know, Ghorza can see to that in like ten seconds."

His eyes flashed downward suggestively, making Clyde balk for a moment. It took him a few seconds to realise what was being implied.

“Uhh… what?"

Their stances reversed, Morlin now looking quite casual and Clyde standing stiffly. “I'm saying, if you want to see what you're missing out on…" he nodded in the direction of his room.

Clyde took another second to consider, then suddenly burst out laughing. He was laughing for at least three seconds when he slowly tapered off to an unsure chuckle, and then a bewildered silence when he realised Morlin wasn't joking.

“I know, it's a little strange, but apparently I'm okay with the idea of sharing my wife," Morlin said, answering an unspoken question. “Haven't tried it out properly, obviously, but I have to admit I'm curious. But if we're going to try, it'd have to be with someone she's attracted to, and it's gotta be someone I trust."

He cocked his head in Clyde's direction as if to reaffirm his point.

The younger man broke out in a fresh laugh then slowly shook his head with a bit of disbelief. “Wow. Okay. You're a dirty old man, sir."

“Uh-huh." Morlin didn't even bother to deny it, merely smirking as he held up a fist. Chuckling, Clyde met the fist-bump and Morlin said, “Promise me you'll think about it?"

“I totally promise not to."

As the friends parted ways, Morlin returned to his quarters for some well-deserved rest. But what he found made him pause the same way Clyde had paused when propositioned by an odd married couple.

Entering and shutting the door behind him, Morlin was only halfway out of his jacket when he froze and spotted Kari was laying flat on her back on the bed. Her dress formed a silky puddle on the ground and her underwear consisted of simple enough lingerie – a black bra and panties with semi-opaque tights up to just above the mid-thigh.

Bent over and pinning her down, one hand laid tenderly on her delicate throat and the other rubbing frantic circles across the front of her panties was Ghorza. Their lips were locked together, tongues in a slippery embrace and making obvious sloppy noises while Kari moaned into Ghorza's mouth. Her legs were spread wide, knees drawn up to her sides to give Ghorza's caress the most unfettered access possible.

Kari's hips bucked against Ghorza's feverish fingering motions while the orcess broke the kiss and looked up. The half-elf in the meantime pawed at Ghorza, pulling herself up slightly to lay a few small but passionate pecks down Ghorza's jawline, then her bare neck and cleavage. Kari had pulled open the plunging dress so she could squeeze and kiss Ghorza's ample emerald breasts with aroused tenderness.

The orcess' magically applied make-up was still perfect despite how aggressively the two had been making out so far. And still in their 'formal party' appearance the contrast between the orc and half-elf was quite jarring and sexy at the same time.

Ghorza with her emerald skin, blood red hair, black lipstick and midnight eyeliner that gave her eyes a ferocity that suited her. Kari on the other hand with fair skin, golden blonde hair and almost minimalistic applications of blush on her cheeks. Seeing them with their hands all over each other brought up all kinds of old teenage fantasies – the goth chick and the pop-princess cheerleader secretly making out under the bleachers, or succubi and angels in carnal embrace to name but a few.

Ghorza smiled as Kari hung off her, planting a few desperate kisses on the orcess' shoulder. “Hello, husband. I hope you don't mind. I got started without you."

Morlin chuckled, pulling off his jacket and throwing it aside with a smile before unbuttoning his shirt. Why on earth would he mind? And taking that as a gesture of being okay with it, Ghorza returned her lips to Kari's making out frantically with the pale skinned woman for another few moments.

While the human in the room took his time undressing, even pausing to make his erection a little more comfortable in his pants, Ghorza squatted down between Kari's sleek thighs and slid her panties up and around her ankles. What happened with the garment from there, she couldn't really care less, and they remained bunched like a pair of restrains while Ghorza settled her lips onto Kari's hairless quim.

The moment they made contact the woman reacted, her back arching off the bed and her hips bucking against the powerful tongue slipping between her lips and running slowly up into her opening, then across her excited clit. Circling the tip of her tongue under her clitoral hood, giving every millimetre of Kari's vagina firm loving, Ghorza's tongue slid down gain and lingered in her opening once more.

Kari's lips parted in a silent cry, eyes blissfully shut and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. The only sound she could make was a surprised gasp as her right hand pressed on the top of Ghorza's head encouragingly, and the other raked its fingers through her own hair. She pulled her usually formal bun apart with one tug and her hair flowed apart like liquid gold, a glistening halo pooling about her head as Kari's whole body began to convulse and dance under the rhythm of Ghorza's oral ministrations.

As quickly as she started however, Ghorza stopped to look up. Kari gave a disappointed moan until she followed the orc's gaze with widening eyes.

Morlin had managed to drop his trousers and stood nearby, his erection bobbing attentively. And it was clear to see by Kari she was surprised. Clearly she was more experienced with dandy elven lovers than corn-fed humans.

When her surprise faded she followed Ghorza off the bed, and on hands and knees the women crawled seductively closer.

Settling at his feet, they started with the most amazing kiss. A snog with all the sloppy trimmings, they put their lips together and still visibly worked their tongues against each other. And the most glorious part of it was that the head of Morlin's cock was trapped between them. The sight alone was enough to make him shudder with pleasure, and he started counting backwards from one-hundred in increasingly complex arithmetic just to prevent busting in that instance.

Breaking the kiss, Kari worked from one side, her tongue gliding down the underside of the shaft down to the base, while Ghorza massaged the tip between her wet lips.

They took turns from there; between Ghorza's bottomless gag reflex and Kari's skilful tongue. Morlin suddenly had to admit Ghorza didn't have much of an oral technique, and while far from unpleasant she relied on just throating him. Pressing forward she let his length slide down her gullet and held on for a few long moments, gulping hungrily and massaging his length with her strong throat muscles before pulling back and gasping for breath, a few lines of spittle dribbling down her chin.

Kari in turn licked him clean, her long dexterous tongue touching all the right spots and massaging in quick but firm motions. Sliding him between her lips she started swirling her tongue about the head. She couldn't seem to take more than a few inches before gagging and pulling back, but her tongue more than made up for her shallow throat.

Over and back they went, Ghorza thrusting him into her throat a few times and Kari caressing shortly after. They worked together like a highly efficient team of knights clearing a dungeon room-by-room and it wasn't long before Morlin's head span.

Feeling him swell in the back of her throat, Ghorza smiled and pulled back before trapping his glistening, drenched erection in her hand and pumping back and forth a few times. On the third jerk she felt the torrent of seed rush through the shaft and she directed his head at Kari's face, who had just opened her mouth to have her next go on the length.

Long ropes of thick seed burst from the tip and splayed across Kari's face, the half-elf squealing with surprise as Ghorza's skilful aim put a few shots across her tongue, the rest over her left cheek and a final, weaker spurt over the bridge of her nose.

Her mouth agape, she looked over at Ghorza with shock, then turned an irritated look up at Morlin.

“Really, Morlin," she complained. “A couple of licks and you blow your load?" She pouted, disappointment clear in her eyes, even as Ghorza leaned in and licked some of the pearls from her face. “He's going to be rather useless for the rest of the night."

Ghorza laughed. “I wouldn't be so quick to judge. My man isn't like those elven soy-boys you're used to bedding."

Reaching over she put her slender digits around Morlin's erect member with a proud smile. The length was still iron hard and throbbing enthusiastically as it had been in Ghorza's mouth moments before erupting. Morlin clearly had plenty left in the tank.

Standing, Ghorza pulled Kari to the foot of the bed and dropped onto her back. Spreading her legs how she'd spread Kari's while pinning her down earlier, she pulled the half-elf's face in between her thighs.

“You're in for quite a treat," she said, eying how Kari was bent over, her heels pointed outward slightly to present herself as she kept her elegant legs straightened. “But I think you owe me something at the same time."

Kari glanced back to see Morlin move up behind her, and she bit her lip with excitement, feeling his fingers dig into her rear. Her eyes rolled as his crown split her labia, and acting almost like a carnal automaton she pressed forward and pushed her lips to Ghorza's nethers.

The orc arched her back like Kari had done when getting her medicine. She wasn't the keening, writhing mess Morlin had reduced her to at the feast, but Kari's skilled tongue was more than enough to please Ghorza. The half-elf would have made a nice pet during her warchief days, Ghorza mused to herself between shivering and gasping for breath.

Meanwhile, Morlin rubbed Kari's smooth lips until he found that tight mouth of dripping arousal squeezing sweetly over his crown. Pressing forward he felt her walls cave, her malleable tunnel yielding to his assault as he pressed slowly into her. Warmth enveloped him all around as she clamped on him like a vice, a convulsing motion rippling and massaging all up and down his length as he entered.

Kari's eyes rolled into the back of her head again as she moaned into Ghorza's quim, savouring every inch spreading her tunnel apart. Right into her core the cock filled her, kissing her depths with a wet little 'mwah' that made Kari's hips buck involuntarily.

Morlin didn't waste a moment, rocking his hips back until just his head lay in Kari's pussy and systematically slammed forward again with a firm, smooth rhythm. It was one he'd practiced plenty with Ghorza and found Kari enjoyed it as much by the way she started rocking back to meet his thrusts. She was wet beyond anything Morlin had felt in the past before, practically gushing as he fucked her in earnest. Every thrust was punctuated by the wet slap of his flesh smacking against her arousal drenched thighs and a high moan muffled by Ghorza's pussy. The sound seemed to set something off in the orcess and a full-body tremor rippled up through her, from her legs, through her hips and up her spine to her neck where she threw her head back, muffling her ecstatic cries by biting her bottom lip.

Recovering, Ghorza looked down and cocked her head past the way her long legs were being pushed up into in the air by Kari's enthusiastic eating. She caught sight of Morlin, digging his fingers into Kari's narrow hips – narrower than hew own anyway – and thrusting feverishly with his eyes shut, as if watching the exchange between the three of them might accidentally set him off again.

As Ghorza was watching her husband claim the other woman, Kari showed off a little bit of sexual experience she'd amalgamated over her long life. Shifting with perfect balance, her heels clicking on the floor as she did, Kari crossed one leg over the other, and Morlin immediately felt her tighten even more around his cock.

Quickly the human realised he might not hold out for very long now, but his saving grace came in the form of Ghorza.

Pulling Kari's lips from her quim, she got the half-elf to stand a little as Ghorza rocked forward and kissed the woman deeply, tasting herself on Kari's tongue and lips. Mixed with the softness of her red lips and the sweet scent of Kari's alluring natural musk made for a divine experience, and Ghorza savoured it with a deep sigh.

As she straightened a little, it gave Morlin a new angle of attack, his cock slamming forward into her G-spot with every following thrust, and as he continued to slide in and out of Kari she raced to overtake him with her own orgasm. Caught between Morlin's vigorous thrusts and Ghorza's passionate kiss the half-elf woman could only try to cry out around Ghorza's lips as every nerve in her body caught fire. Her toes curled in her shoes and her knees would have buckled were it not for Morlin's powerful cock practically holding her up – his hands groping the luscious curves of her ass certainly helped.

Kari came, harder than she had ever before in her hundred-and-twenty years on this earth. The tremor ran up through her legs and forced her hips back and forth as if electrocuted. Her own hands moved to her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples as her mind greedily ached for more, more stimulation, more pleasure, more…

She gushed a moment later with a glow of what could only be described as magic somewhere deep in her core. It rushed out of her, and all across Morlin's dick in a red-hot wave.

Morlin paused, hilting deep inside her as Kari broke the vice-like kiss and released a long wavering “ooooooohh~!" that was probably bothering the diplomats trying to sleep in the next room.

Ghorza chuckled. “It's a good thing I'm here. I've no doubt my husband's stem is too much for a little girl like you to handle alone."

Kari, finding her graceful composure again, arched her eyebrows, then pushed forward, pinning Ghorza on her back and climbing on top to straddle her belly. “You think so, huh? Let's see how you fare then."

Reaching back she caught Morlin's length, still warm and slippery, glistening from her orgasm, and gently tugged him forward, directing him down to Ghozra's emerald slit. Morlin needed only press in, sinking into Ghorza's eager hot depths while Kari skilfully guided him in. He hilted inside her slick tunnel with one long wet motion, her silky vice embracing him all around. His cock felt like it might melt inside Ghorza's lovely warm body and he once more relied on increasingly complicated mental calisthenics to hold himself back. This time he tried to figure out an escape and evasion plan should he bust too soon and leave Ghorza unsatisfied. It had never happened before, but fortune favoured the prepared.

Thankfully Kari had him covered, ensuring that wouldn't happen. She dipped forward and locked her lips around one dark green nipple, licking frantically while Ghorza desperately gasped for air. At the same time her slender fingers moved from Morlin's body and started tracing feverish little slick circles over Ghorza's clitoris.

Ghorza's orgasm followed quite quickly after Kari's. By the time Morlin was fucking her in earnest she tightened her grip on him, heels digging into his thighs until he had to shorten his strokes.

Victimised between Kari's dexterous fingers and Morlin's length and girth pounding her relentlessly, Ghorza came despite every fibre of her body trying to hold it back. Under her husband she always failed to hold back, and under a beautiful young lady while receiving the usual attentions from Morlin, there was definitely no muffling the squirting orgasm.

A wave of her juices spurted from her body between the shaft stretching her pussy lips open, drenching Morlin's erection further and coating Kari's fingers. She'd have licked them clean were it not for Ghorza's military take-down style stranglehold keeping them embraced in a tight and passionate snog.

Morlin slid out of Ghorza with a wet slurp, feeling that rise in the base of his cock. For him to stop now would be incredibly frustrating, and realising he might be blue-balled, Ghorza reacted quickly.

Acting through the haze still clouding her mind and the juices still jetting from her pussy, she pressed down on Kari's lower back until both their sodden and satisfied quims were pressed together, wrapped comfortably about Morlin's length.

Sliding back and forth between their slippery pussies pressed tightly together, it didn't take Morlin to get the rest of the way. Before long he swelled between them, the friction of his thrusts over Kari's sensitive clit igniting another fire in her and making her cry out at the ceiling. Ghorza somewhere under her groped the woman's breasts, comfortably resting back and rocking slightly under her husband's long strokes. She felt him swell and knew what would happen next.

Right on cue she felt him spasm, each convulsion of his cock sending a warm spurt across Ghorza's belly. One rope landed between her breasts, slightly parted by gravity and filling her cleavage with a thick rope of cum. Another deviated off to the side to lay across a dark green nipple while the rest warmed her nicely toned abs, glistening in the dim candlelight lighting the chamber.

Exhausted, all three of them collapsed to the bed, though not before Kari bent over and in a gesture of thanks for her earlier cleanup when Morlin spent across her face, and licked some of the thick pearls from Ghorza's body. Her nerve endings still sensitive from earlier, she giggled delicately as they wrestled for a moment, speaking quietly about something Morlin couldn't hear.

Eventually they settled down, one woman either side of Morlin while Ghorza rolled onto her side, brushing a crimson curl behind her ear.

Her skin was slick with sweat, Kari's cum and Morlin's seed, but despite her lack of hard, fatigued breaths she wore the face of a deeply satisfied woman. There was a smouldering desire for more in her eyes that would have scared lesser men in Morlin's position, and a lewd smile on her lips as she ran a hand across his bare chest, tracing her slender fingers over a few familiar scars.

“You know…" He swallowed a breath, trying to catch his second wind. “I was kind of worried."

“Oh?"

“The way we've been fooling about every night, I was worried we might get bored with each other after a while."

Ghorza cocked her head slightly and glanced at Kari. “Are you still worried?"

“Hell no!" Sliding his fingers around the back of her neck, he pulled her closer for another kiss.

Despite everything so far, just making out while Ghorza's bare breasts warmed his chest was enough to make Morlin's member rise and harden quite quickly until it stood up in the air once more. And as if that was her cue, Kari rolled onto her hands and knees and straddled him with the dexterity of a sex-ninja. Morlin didn't have the time to react, though if he could he wouldn't have stopped her anyway as the woman rocked back, her slender fingers wrapping around his cock to guide the head to her opening.

Still stretched from their earlier tryst, he slid up into her with slippery ease, drawing a contented sigh from Kari's lips and making Morlin clench excitedly. Despite having spent twice, Morlin felt a twang of readiness tighten his balls while the half-elf's squeezing tunnel milked him for every drop. They rose to another orgasm together rather quickly, and sensing she was missing out of the fun, Ghorza slipped from the bed.

Settling on the ground between Morlin's knees, the orc leaned in and ran her tongue across his balls, then up along the underside of his erection, tasting Kari's pleasure as her quim caressed the length of the cock with long, wet strokes.

Morlin sighed deeply between the warmth of Kari's depths and the slippery, sneaky tongue teases of his wife, while fondly knowing there was a knight out there somewhere wondering whether or no he wanted to slide up into one of Ghorza's willing holes next.

He really did keep strange company – and it was kind of wonderful.

<<Previous| ** “ Strange Company"

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