Orc Bound Mates

Chapter Two - Part One

Slowly, consciousness filters back to me, drawing me out of the safety of my oblivion. The smell of a hearty meat dish fills my nose, making my mouth water and my stomach growl. The last time I ate was lunch; I skipped dinner because I had to work overtime. The only employee in the office required to work overtime, but hey, what do I know? I just work there. I shift in my soft fur-covered bed, enjoying the pleasant tickle of the blanket against my exposed skin. I dimly notice that I’m still wearing my work clothes; I assume I must’ve been too tired to change before bed. The cadence of deep male voices echoes loud and clear against my aching head. My mind is so foggy the sound of conversation doesn’t register completely. I try to squeeze my eyes shut tighter to lessen the pounding in my skull.

What the hell?

Then everything that happened earlier hits me like a ton of bricks, and my heart starts hammering against my chest. Anxiety paralyzes me, preventing my body from moving and my mouth from speaking.

Where the f**k am I?

Memories of what occurred before I lost consciousness flash like snapshots from a horror film. Snippets of me running from some creep through the woods, then from a monstrous man into a clearing that doesn't exist, before slamming into something. Or someone.

I crack my eyes open to get a sense of where I am because I don’t live with anyone to cook for me, and I don’t have anything with fur on my bed. Flickering firelight bathes the room in a warm glow, not bright enough to hurt my head too much but luminous enough to see by. I stare at the ceiling lined with logs many feet above me, not recognizing what I'm seeing. I expected to see stars in the midnight sky, the porous tiles of a hospital room, or the smooth cream surface of my apartment bedroom.

That’s not my ceiling.

I turn my head towards the voices as slowly as possible, hoping to avoid tipping off the men that I’m awake. My guts twist with the fear writhing inside me; adrenaline washes through me, making my head pound harder.

From this viewpoint, I can see a small table beside the bed and a giant fire pit beyond it pressed against a stone wall. The fireplace curves around in a half circle of thick stones stacked high to prevent any flames from leaping out. I glance up and see a hole cut out of the ceiling to let the smoke vent out; above the cavity is a square cap to prevent anything from outside getting in.

Smart.

Herbs, flowers, and dried vegetables hang from racks anchored in the ceiling high above the pit to avoid the fire turning them to ash. Several pots, pans, and cooking utensils hang from hooks in the wall to the left of the hearth.

Three huge olive-green men are sitting on stone benches wrapping around the fire, speaking in low voices. They are focused on their conversation and moving animatedly, so I take a moment to observe them. I gulp silently at their size; they are all fearsomely big, covered in heavy muscle, tattoos peppering their skin, and all naked from the waist up. Dark caramel-colored leather pants hug tightly to thick thighs, and blackened leather straps hold them in place. Their bare feet are flat on the stone floor; I half expected them to have black talon-like nails. Instead, they have regular shaped light green nails. I can’t help myself as I let my gaze wander over every inch of them I can see.

Mmmm, eye candy. Green-skinned eye candy? What the hell?

The man sitting closest to me is one of the smaller ones with long braided black hair that hangs down to his hips. His hair covers a bit of stark black ink that swirls around his shoulders before covering his biceps down to his hands. The other one on the far side is equal in size to the first one, his hair the same color, black and braided, except he has a mohawk, the sides shaved down. The ends of his hair reach his shoulder blades. I can’t be sure from this vantage point, but I can see that he has the same dark ink on his shoulders as the other one, but his ink is solid across his shoulders instead of the swirling pattern. The one in the middle is the biggest and darkest-skinned; he has short-cropped black hair and ink, just like the others have. His tattoos are a fluorescent sea foam color that looks like animal claw marks slashing over his shoulders, arms, and hips.

So transfixed by the green giants in front of me, I fail to notice another massive breathing form lying next to me. That is until a freezing wet nose nudges into my neck, followed by a hot wet tongue. I yelp in alarm as I scramble away from the animal, unsure of what’s behind me. It has a mouth; that’s all I need to know, to know that I want nothing to do with it.

At my outburst, three sets of eyes turn to me, and I still as that fear simmering inside me surges. The leafy-toned skin should have been concerning enough for me to realize that these weren’t men, but the point hits home by tusks protruding up from their bottom lips. Their tusks are as long as a tiger’s fangs. I’m in a house with three giant Orcs. Orcs that don’t exist. Orcs that only live in movies and games. Just my f*****g luck.

I’m still waiting for that f*****g switch to break!

I squeak as they rise in unison, converging on me in the bed. Each one settles into different spots in front of me. The Orc with the mohawk brings a cup and pushes it toward me. I shake my head at the offered cup and bury myself further into the blankets, trying to hide from their intimidating bulk. The creature shuffles behind me, moving closer to my side and sniffing my hair. I cringe at the contact, and the giant Orc cuts a hard stare at the creature.

“Skarr, enough!” He commands in a rich lilting tone that’s scary and pleasant simultaneously; he shoos Skarr away with a flick of his hand. I chance a quick peek over at the beast and nearly scream at the wolf that stares back at me. More significant than any wolf I’ve ever seen, almost double the size of the biggest ones in the zoo. Black as midnight in a moonless sky with giant, shining pale blue eyes set in its vast head. The wolf listens to the Orc and moves to the other end of the bed, which is also massive.

Orcs! I’m losing my mind; everything in this place is just so f*****g overwhelmingly big. The house, the pet, the bed, the fire pit, the f*****g people.

I start hyperventilating as my mind works to understand what the hell is going on; everything I thought I knew about my world is upending. I’m just hanging on for the ride. Several big hands cup my head, shoulders, and legs, rubbing soothingly to help calm me down. Mumbled words of reassurance dance past my ears, but the blood’s rushing through them again, and I can’t make out much of what they are saying. I shouldn’t be comforted by their touch; I should be screaming again.

I've landed in an unknown world, and I've no idea how I got here. All I know at this moment is that I’m alone in a house. With three, yes, three giant Orcs. And an enormous wolf. Dire wolf, maybe.

Deep breaths, Alexa. Deep breaths.

Several long minutes later, I’ve managed to take enough deep breaths to calm down. I’m still mid-freak out, staring at the Orcs surrounding me in a half-circle. Funny how brains work. My brain works on what it can catalog instead of dealing with everything else.

The big guy has sharp greenish-gray eyes set under a sturdy brow covered in thick arched black eyebrows, a scar cutting through the left one. His nose is straight and wide, nostrils flaring as he breathes deep. His jaw's as square as a brick and probably as hard, thick, and firm lips pulled into a stiff line with the tusks pushing the bottom lip out to accommodate them. He has the two bigger ones at the corners of his lips, but there are two smaller tusks tucked on the inner side of the big ones.

The other two, I notice, must be twins in how similar they look, with sharp jaw lines, less square than the big Orcs. Thicker than sin lips, softer in the slight curve of a smile they wear. They have the same straight wide nose, but that is where the similarities shift. Mohawk has bright green eyes with straight eyebrows; the left side-blotched with paler skin, like someone flicked bleach there and stripped the color. The spotted part of his eyebrow is white. Braids’ has deep blue eyes with the same blotching over his eye but on the right side, the same white eyebrow.

“Who are you?” I forced the question from my dry, raspy throat, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth. I choke on the last word, and Mohawk urges the cup back toward me. They stare at me for a long moment.

“Drink. It is water.” He insists, his husky voice soft and encouraging; I eye him wearily before reaching out and taking the cup. I sniff it before sipping the clear liquid cautiously, the crisp, refreshing feel is heaven on my tongue, and I gulp down the rest. It soothes my throat. After it’s empty, I hand it back to Mohawk, and he turns and fills it again from a pitcher on the bedside table. The stunning Orc returns the cup to me, urging me to drink more, which I do.

What the actual f**k is this situation?!? No survival instincts left. Just accept what they’re giving me!?!

“How are you feeling?” Big guy asks, his voice washing over me, causing my insides to melt at the rumbling timber. He hasn’t stopped rubbing his hand over my leg, which is not helping with the melting. I should be upset by his actions, which is funny because I’m not. Eye candy is one thing, a nice body, granted green, is okay. Getting gentle strokes like an animal is weird, not disgusting, but strange. Who, in their right mind, encounters a trio of Orcs and starts thinking naughty things?

Me. Me. Pick me.

Typically, in a situation like this, I’d be less obedient and cuss someone out, yelling my frustrations. Stress is another fun thing, but I have enough self-preservation to know that pissing these Orcs off could land me on a spit roast over the fire. So, I take a deep breath and collect my thoughts.

“Scared. My head hurts, and I’m very confused. Where am I? Who are you, Orcs?” I stumble over the word Orcs because it’s not been a part of my vocabulary in conversation before. The absurdity rattles my already irritated nerves, but the big guy’s hand steadily caressing my thigh is settling me in many ways. Weird ways that should be rattling and not calming.

Woohoo, stress!

“I am Vlorg.” The big guy introduces himself before pointing to Braids and says, “This is Orguk and Borguk.” He ends by indicating at Mohawk. “This is our Longhouse.” He suggests with a sweeping motion around him; he nods to the wolf at the end of the bed, who’s still staring at me. “And he is Skarr. He is no threat.” I side-eye the wolf and doubt it. Sure, he was no threat to the Orcs, but to me, I would be a tasty snack with some bones left over to gnaw on—a little more than a snack, maybe a decent dinner.

“Here, drink this. It will help with your head pain.” Orguk coaxes a new cup into my hand; I hadn’t noticed that he had disappeared and returned, so distracted by my thoughts. I take the cup, sniffing it again and recoiling at the smell. I want to gag. It smells like it will taste awful. Like one of those mud pies you made as a kid with everything in it from the yard. Worms, little rotting fruit, weird flowers, yeah, one of those. Orguk chuckles at my reaction. “It tastes better than it smells. Drink.”

I sip the hot liquid carefully; it does taste better than it smells, but that isn’t saying much. Still, the warm drink feels lovely on my sore throat, so I finish it slowly. Setting the cup on the table, I can already feel it easing the pounding in my head, which is a welcome relief.

“What is your name, little female?” Vlorg asks his brow furrowing, leaning a little closer to me and breathing deeply through his nose. He’s doing strange things to me, something that shouldn’t be happening. His chest rumbles, sending the vibrations straight to my body through his contact with my leg, and I shudder. Heat pooling low in my abdomen, I shift my legs to pull myself back and out of his grasp.

“My name is Alexa,” I mumble, wiggling my way further up the bed to lean against the wall, not wanting to remain sprawled out on the bed being loomed over. The blanket shifts down in my journey to sit up, and all eyes transfix on my chest. The trio of rumbling Orcs stare down at me with desire blazing in their eyes, regarding me like I'm a splendid feast for them to eat. All the attention has me flustered from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

I glance down to see that during my romp through the forest, my blouse has managed to rip open to display a generous amount of my t**s. Since I’m the proud bearer of sizable J-cup boobs, generous is a whole f*****g lot. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I yank the blanket up to cover myself. I peek up at them from my hiding place in the furs and gasp as each one’s sporting a tent in their trousers. The size of each tent is so wrong and exciting, more significantly sized than any guy I’ve ever seen, and a little intimidating. The heat in my abdomen is glowing hotter, my p***y throbbing at the thought of how they would feel inside me. I press my thighs together and clear my throat.

Down girl! Now is not the time or place for you to be getting hot for the Orcs. f*****g Orcs!!

“So, how’d I end up here with you guys?” I ask to distract them and myself from the heating tension in the room that has nothing to do with the bright fire in the pit. Vlorg’s the first to shake out of the trance my t**s put on them.

“We saved you from Urghat. Honorless Orc. He was hunting you.” Vlorg growled at the name in his mouth, his lip curling into a snarl, which should have been terrifying. But they were growing on me. What can I say?

“Why was he hunting me?” I ask, too distracted by the throbbing between my legs to focus entirely on the conversation. Squeezing my thighs tighter together only marginally eases the need simmering inside me.

“He meant to claim you as his. Take you to his Longhouse to rut you.” Orguk chimes in, his growl shivering through the air. The words click and disgust sours my stomach. The aching in my cunt fades at the implications.

“He was going to r**e me!?” I can’t help how my voice shrieks out the words, fear tinging the warm tingles in my stomach more. I glance between the three Orcs and shimmy away from them, my heart lodging in my throat at the idea of them forcing themselves on me. I’m alone with three of them and one of me. Those are not good odds. “Why did you bring me back here? Do you plan to r**e me too?” The accusation in my tone is apparent.

All three Orcs rear back at that, brows coming down in disgust, fists clenching at their sides. Snarls distorting their mouths before barking “NO!” in unison. It’s a little reassuring, but the hard-ons they sport are hard to miss. Looking down, I observe each erection is now completely deflated and non-threatening. Good to know that these Orcs don’t like the idea of r****g women.

“We are not Honorless savages like Urghat!! We would never rut a female without consent!!” Borguk growls but lowers his tone when I flinch away from the menacing sound. “We were raised better. Our mother taught us how to court a female. No unwanted rutting.” Vlorg and Orguk nod in agreement with Borguk.

“Well, sorry for assuming! I accidentally flashed a little titty, and all of you were pitching major tents!” I yell without meaning to, still a little more than stressed. Orguk tilts his head in confusion. Staring at me like I was actively losing the last shred of my sanity, which might be true.

“We were not erecting temporary shelters.” He corrects me, and I laugh at the response. Okay, so they took things in a literal sense. No sarcasm, metaphors, or euphemisms. Great.

“No, your c***s were hard in your trousers. Like erections.” I explain, the blush returning to my cheeks. It feels like The Birds and The Bees conversation with my parents all over again. Except I’m sitting with three increasingly attractive Orcs. Who gets extremely hard at the sight of my exposed flesh? Another shiver races over my body at the idea of them getting hard for me.

Damn it! Down girl! You just accused them of wanting to r**e you. Not a turn-on. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Of course, we are virile males in the company of a supple female. It is natural. Does not mean we would rut you without permission.” Vlorg puffs his chest a little to display his masculinity, the others doing the same. “We would court you first—vie for your attention. Find gifts that will suit your preference. Preparing the finest meals for you to eat. Pamper you until you want for nothing. Clothe you in hand-sewn gowns of every color. Before ever hoping to rut you.” He finishes with a leering perusal of my body under the fur cover. Shivering with how warm his gaze is making me, the thought of being on the receiving end of that attention makes me dizzy with desire. I shake the thoughts from my head, chastising myself. I’m in a completely different world with Orcs, and hell knew what else. I shouldn’t be thinking about being courted by Orcs. Or the rutting.

“I don’t know how I got here. I was chased by a potential r****t on my way home from work and ran through the park. Into one forest and out into this world, only to be hunted by Urghat. Running into you, guys, and getting knocked unconscious in the process. I’m scared and on the verge of breaking down. I’m not from this world; I don’t think.” I summarize the sequence of events in short sentences, hoping it all made sense to them. “How am I going to get back to my world?” I ask quietly, unsure if I’m really here or dying in the park, having a fever dream. Maybe, I’ve already suffered one of the greater tragedies of my life. Defiled and left for dead in the park for some old lady to find.

“We do not know. We can ask our patriarch soon. See if there is any knowledge of your plight.” Vlorg offers what reassurances he can while shaking his head. Inhaling deeply, I exhale a heavy sigh; I can’t do anything about it now. It can be a problem for future Alexa; present Alexa feels grimy and poorly dressed. Maybe, a hot bath and clean clothes will make me feel better. Kind of like, when a girl chops her hair off and dyes it hot pink after a mental breakdown.

“Speaking of clothes, do you have something I can wear that’s not torn apart?” I glance under the covers to see mud, blotches of blood, and hell knows what else, caking my skin and clothes. “And maybe somewhere to bathe?” I desperately want to rid myself of everything that happened tonight. Doubting it’s prudent to leave the relative safety of these Orcs, I might as well be clean before trying to figure out how to get home.

Borguk leaps into action, heading to the far end of the Longhouse to the last door on the right. Ducking inside, I can hear him rifling around for a few moments before emerging with some cloth in his hand.