A Note on Responses: If responses to this story warrant it; another story set in the same world may be forthcoming. However, stories cannot exist in a vacuum! If you liked the story and would like to see more like it, to have to write the author and tell he or she what you thought of it.
A Note on Continuity: This story is a sequel to "Infiltration." There will likely be more stories forthcoming in this series. If you have a direction you want to see it go in, please send me an e-mail and let me know.
The Usual Warning: This story contains images of graphic sex between males.
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"Bifurcation" written by the Bacchanalian
Number two of a series of as yet undetermined length
It was once more morning. He could tell already, for there was a red glow behind his eyelids as he lay with them closed, luxuriating in the warmth which fell upon his body. It was relaxing, but not making him more sleepy: rather, it seemed to prime his body, the sun seeping into every joint and filling it with the energy that it would need during the upcoming day. He lay for several minutes, just letting the sun do its work.
But the day was young, as the very presence of the sun indicated. Slowly, almost regrettably (as he did every morning) he rose from the blanketing on the ground and stood, slowly stretching his mighty limbs. He was easily two meters tall, perhaps even a bit more. But certainly he was not lean. Ever centimeter of his height rippled with well-...no, over-developed musculature, presenting a most imposing sight to any onlookers, of which there were none in the secluded clearing. He was certainly alone. He could tell if others were about. He could hear them, could smell them, could even almost taste their scent on the air when people grew near. No, he was alone.
He stretched again, letting the ligaments cramped from bedding down on the thinly hidden rocks and roots expand again, and hearing with satisfaction the tiny cracklings in his joints that signaled their readiness. Yes, his dexterity was returning. He flexed one arm, watching the sinews meld and morph up and down the length of it. Flesh rippled, bone rose and fell and muscles shifted and contracted as the delicate nerves transmitted his mind's wishes down from his brain. Fingers curled, talons brushing the palm of his strong hand. One was chipped slightly, and he frowned, trying to remember what might have marred the claw. But he could not recall anything, and his mind quickly abandoned that issue for the matters of more importance that awaited him that day.
Green-toned skin contorting, his brow furrowed as he thought of the day to come, even as he strolled across the small clearing in which he had slept. It had been some time since he had last met up with a patrol. He would have new orders, a new command perhaps, and certainly a new mission. He had been idle for too long. It had been too long since last he had vanquished an enemy... at least under orders. His mouth turned up into a smile at the thought, and his tusks, recently sharpened and polished, shone through prominently with only a pale yellow tint. It had been light pickings for meat as well. That, at least, had been neither pleasing nor planned. But the forest was as fickle as ever, and the animals had been scarce... a few rabbits here and there, foxes at one point, and a week ago he had taken a bear. But that was about it. Certainly nothing extravagant. He was looking forward to getting back to civilization--or at least to some other people, at least.
It was a new day, and there was much to do.
He could hear them before they drew within sight, just as surely as they must have heard him approach. Even over the roaring of a waterfall close by, the grating sound of armor was hard to mistake. As quietly as he might have liked to have moved, it was simply impossible to do so under the shell-like plates. Similarly, although the upcoming battalion was almost certainly not armored, the sound of the myriad feet on the ground was quite enough to make their presence know; indeed, he could feel the vibration in the ground as he walked stalwartly through the forest. Both were undeniably aware of the other's approach, as should have been.
Pushing through a thick copse of trees, he saw them. The ground sloped away from him, and he looked down over the extent of a deep valley, which must have extended for several kilometers until rising again on the other side. Dimly, he registered that the sound of the waterfall was nearer, as the crashing was quite loud hear. It must pour down the side of the basin, he thought, not paying much attention. The trees which grew all around him thinned as they descended into the vale, turning to smaller shrubberies and grasses as the vegetation spilled onto the rocky outcroppings that were exposed in the valley. Because of this lack of cover, the approaching troops were hard to miss.
There were many, many... many men there. The column stretched back lengthwise down the canyon, trailing away into the distance. There was a great cloud of dust over them, kicked up from their feet as they moved on. There was little color: muted grays, browns and greens seemed to be the mode, keeping their presence minimal and unobtrusive (as unobtrusive as an army could be). He could scarcely make out the details at this distance, but he could definitely make out distinctions between the mounted horsemen and the myriad ranks of infantry. He thought back quickly, trying to remember how many persons there were to a battalion. Six regiments, four troupes, each of those containing twelve companies... he lapsed into calculation for a moment, sunlight streaming onto him as he stood thoughtfully at the brink between the shadow and the light.
Nearly thirty thousand men. Likely there were a few less, casualties and (he grimaced at the thought) deserters. But these lacks would be more than made up by the prisoners taken in the actions in which this battalion had already fought. It had served with distinction, and his ego swelled at the thought of it. It had crushed its opposition, swept though the border land, clearing the way of any opposition. It had been almost beautiful in a way, capitulation after capitulation by the pitiful elven forces. Elegant, without blemish of defeat. This was a good army.
It was his army. He smiled more widely at the thought. Still with the satisfied grin spreading across his face, he turned, and clambered down the sheer face of the cliff, going forward to meet the advancing line of the battalion.
They had probably seen him already as he stood on the hilltop, for the army had reached a full stop by the time he reached the front of its lines, and he observed many people already setting up camp. It was beginning to get dark, now that he thought of it, and the gully was a good a place as any to stop. Not well-defensible, but all resistance in the area had already been quite firmly trounced, and they could certainly repel any animalian interlopers which might wander by in the night. The river flowed nearby (he had just forded it a short while ago) and it seemed suitable enough for obtaining drinking water.
Several tents had already been erected in the front as he stepped down from the rocky piles onto the smoother ground adjacent to the meandering strips of meadows down one side of the valley. They were taller than those being put up farther down the line, and rather larger as well. Clearly, he had found the officers' quartering.
As if reading his thoughts, the hanging cloth of one of the nearer tents suddenly was shoved aside, and a large orc emerged from within, clad--like he--in a full suit of armor. It was uncomfortable and impractical, but that was the way of it. It would be unheard of to fail to wear armor in front of the soldiers. A gross lack of decorum. The orc quickly strode toward him, long legs covering the distance quickly.
"Commander Rajenique," he said amiably as he drew close. "How good of you to join us with such expedience."
"The pleasure is all mine, I am sure," said Rajenique gruffly. The other orc smiled.
"As you are no doubt aware, I am Warcaptain first rank Mirkhath."
"I was indeed aware your position, Warcaptain. I will say in advance that I expect that it will be a pleasant experience to serve with a Warcaptain as experienced as yourself."
"You flatter me, Commander. No doubt your own experience in battle puts mine to shame."
"But you forget that I am merely here to dictate strategy and tactics. You will retain full control over your battalion." Mirkhath frowned.
"Let's dispense with the platitudes, then," he said firmly. "We both know that you are actually in command of this battalion. I'm your X.O."
"We all get our marching orders from somewhere," replied Rajenique glibly. "If you happen to be privileged enough to have me, consider it an honor." He smiled.
"Oh, I do, Commander, I do." Another orc approached from the side. Mirkhath glanced over at the newcomer and then back to the commander. He nodded briefly to his side, at the oncoming figure, and said briefly: "This is Warcaptain fifth rank Guerru. He will serve as your adjutant."
The newcomer--Guerru, Rajenique supposed--stood smartly before the two officers. He, unlike them, was not clad in armor, but instead wore a more practical, cooler outfit. Gray trousers of good quality covered his legs, and he wore a large olive-colored coat over the rest of his form. Vaguely, Rajenique noticed the outline of a sword underneath the right side of the coat, but the thought was not particularly important nor obvious. For a long while, there was a pause as the three stood awkwardly, and then the commander spoke up firmly:
"Well, Fifth," he said slowly, almost drawling, "I suppose that you must have been with this battalion for quite some time?"
"Yes, sir," replied Guerru. "Two years, sir."
"Then you know your way around," continued Rajenique.
"Certainly, sir."
"Then you will be of some use to me after all. Direct me to my tent, please." He turned to Mirkhath. "It was very pleasant speaking with you, but I would much appreciate getting some rest." The sky was definitely twilight now, and he looked tired. Mirkhath nodded curtly and stalked away.
Rajenique turned to his adjutant.
"Lead on." Guerru turned and took the orc the short distance through the tents until he arrived at one very similar to that from which the Warcaptain had emerged. Guerru gestured at it.
"You'll find," he said quickly, "that the tent has already been supplied with food, drink, bedding, tactical maps... if there's anything else that you require, I'm in the next tent over." Guerru pointed at a tent just adjacent to his. It was much smaller, and it was quivering slightly. Behind the dark cloth of the exterior, the commander could clearly see a shape moving within.
"Who else is in there?" he asked.
"That's Makttewe. He's the ombudsman fourth for this battalion. If you'd like, I can take you to see the advisership head."
"No, no, it's late, said the commander wearily. Just an idle thought."
"Then, if there's nothing else...?" asked Guerru.
"Yes, yes. I'll see you in the morning." With that, Guerru walked over to his tent, disappearing inside, while Rajenique did the same, striding purposefully over to the loosely tied flap of his pavilion and slipping within. Soon, he was sleeping soundly, the night above watching warmly over the slumbering horde below.
The morning brought with it not any rooster crowing, but only the stretching and daybreak exercises of the battalion. As Rajenique blinked open his eyes, he could see that the sides of the tent were heavily lighted y the sun--which must already have climbed a small way into the sky!
Cursing his own negligence as much as the lateness of the hour, he quickly pulled himself out of be, dressed, and snatched up the maps and information that had been neatly arranged on the dresser. He hadn't had time to examine them yet, but he had a fair idea of what plan he would advocate at his meeting with the Warcaptain.
As he veritable sprung from his tent, he thought that he could feel a thousand eyes on him, laughing at the lateness of his rising. How could he have been so lackadaisical!? It was unforgivable. Without further ado, he walked quickly over to the tent from which he had seen the warcaptain emerge before.
Fortunately, not was only was it still there, but the warcaptain himself was standing in front of it, leaning over a table with another armored orc, examining something before them carefully. Rajenique waited a short time, not wanting to disturb what has clearly a matter of some import. But time dragged on, and besides for quiet comments intersperses with the shuffling of papers, neither lifted his head. Finally, the commander cleared his throat loudly. Both heads snapped up suddenly, and whirled around to see what the disturbance might be.
As the warcaptain saw who it was, his shoulders relaxed imperceptibly, and he stepped quickly forward.
"Commander Rajenique, may I introduce you to Warcaptain second Dhermik, my informations officer." He gestured to the other orc, who was carefully eyeing Rajenique. "Second Dhermik, this is Commander Rajenique."
"Charmed, I'm sure," growled the second, clearly less than pleased at being disturbed and not afraid to show it.
"Excuse me for disturbing you like that," replied the commander pleasantly but firmly, "But I thought that it would be wise to go over the plans for the upcoming few weeks before we got underway today."
"Certainly," said Mirkhath genially, gesturing to the table. "In fact, we were just discussing some new intelligence that Dhermik received." The commander's gaze shifted to the second.
"Yes, of course," said Dhermik, looking down at the papers on the table. "The next stronghold which we were planning to assault was Langerhans, on the lycin-elivsh border. It's an elvish fort, but it's been assaulted in the past by lycin forces as well." Rajenique nodded. "I've received information that the fort is going to be attacked in a surprise assault by the lycin before we could ever hope to reach there... perhaps as little as one day. We won't be there for three. Now, after Langerhans, the next objective was Ibistethlin, within the foothills of the Spinetooth mountain range here. It will be a difficult fight in any case, probably more so than any we've faced yet."
"And you're worried that if we don't pick up more supplied in sacking Langerhans then we might come up a bit short if a prolonged siege ensues," finished the commander. Dhermik looked briefly surprised. "That's why I'm the commander," said Rajenique, smiling. "And there's really no choice. It's essential that we be equipped for a siege: for this stronghold, we'll probably need to besiege it at least for a time. We march to Langerhans."
"What of the lycin, then?" asked the warcaptain. "We don't want to antagonize them. They've never attacked us in this entire offensive."
"I suppose," said Rajenique, "That we could always barter with them."
"What do we have that they could possibly want?" asked Dhermik.
"It's not what we have," said the commander, "but who. You know why the lycin attack the elvish forts, of course, second?" Dhermik smiled.
"The prisoners," was all he said.
Guerru hurried alongside the commander as they strode briskly down the sunlit knoll to the encamped troops below. Guerru was glancing about, as if something were watching him, and Rajenique seemed to be in more of a hurry than the leisurely pace of the morning demanded.
"So why are going to see the prisoners?" asked Guerru, after having been repeatedly reassured that it was quite all right to ask a question.
"Because I want to get a rough estimate of how many we have," said Rajenique, still looking ahead. Just through the ranks, he thought that he could see the ranks of those captured.
"But anyone could do that. I could do that. You don't have to trouble yourself with such details."
"I guess," said Rajenique amiably, "that I'm a hands-on kind of guy."
"But why must you know how many prisoners there are in any case!?" asked Guerru, apparently quite emboldened from his newfound ability to question the commander.
"It's a strategic consideration," replied the commander tersely.
"Oh. I see."
"It's not as though it's any secret, though," continued Rajenique, turning to the young adjutant. Guerru looked up momentarily, and nearly fell over an outcropping of rock. "Watch yourself there, Fifth. You could get hurt."
Guerru grinned sheepishly.
"So why do we need to count the prisoners," asked Guerru. Rajenique glanced back at him, then sighed.
"You're aware of the basic plans for the offensive, correct?"
"Of course," said Guerru. "Every soldier is, at least of the basic directions."
"Our next destination is Langerhans, after which we march to Ibistethlin."
"Right..." said Guerru.
"Now, we can reasonably expect a prolonged siege at Ibistethlin. Maybe we'll be lucky and avoid one. But it's quite likely." Guerru nodded.
"And what do the besiegers need to have in a siege that the defenders don't?"
"Food?" guessed Guerru.
"Brilliant," said Rajenique wryly.
"But won't we simply collect that Langerhans? That's why we're going there first after all, isn't it?"
"How smart you are! But there's a problem with this plan." Guerru frowned, and looked up expectantly.
"The lycin will have attacked the fort before we ever arrive there. Every indication seems to suggest that they will be victorious. And we don't want to attack the lycin. We and they have been neutral parties throughout all this. We wouldn't want this to be the beginning of a beautiful enmity." Guerru nodded sagely.
"So what are you going to do?"
"Simple. Get the lycin to give us the supplies from the pillaged fort."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"Give them something they want in return. The way the world goes round."
"And what do they want?" Rajenique looked miffed.
"Can't you put it all together now? It's quite elementary." Guerru himself looked somewhat pained, and looked singularly thoughtful as they wended their way about the ashes of the campfires of the previous night. Orcs were standing and milling about, in some places engaging in friendly bouts of sword- or axe-play. Still more were simply sitting and chatting, but far more were probably out wandering about the woods and capturing small game for the coming night. They would be moving on in the morning, and needed to gather supplies for the three-day march on Langerhans. The camp was not exactly busy, but neither was everyone indolent. It was a welcome break, though, from the forced march and short nights of the previous week.
Guerru suddenly looked up. "That's what the prisoners are for! For the lycin!"
"Bravo," said Rajenique, without much feeling.
"They'll give us the elven supplies if we give them supplies of our own."
"Well, we certainly aren't going to eat the damn things. They make us move slower, and if the lycin are willing to give us supplies in exchange for them, all the better for both of us."
"But isn't that in some sort of violation of the rules of war. I mean, you're selling them to be devoured!"
"I'm not selling them to be devoured," replied Rajenique glibly. "I'm certain that the lycin will act responsibly with the prisoners. I'm merely conducting an exchange of POWs with another force. Perfectly legal. If the prisoners are later killed, it certainly isn't my fault. I acted in good faith." Guerru grinned along with Rajenique.
"Like I said," finished the commander. "Everyone wins."
Finally, after a few more minutes of walking, during which Guerru chattered nonstop about various other strategic decision that had been explained to him, they finally stepped out onto a small hillock overlooking the prisoners' encampment. Orcs milled all over, and a cluster of large pavilions stood at one end, housing for the higher-ranking gaolmaster staff.
But far more obvious than the armed soldiers walking to and fro were the lines of shackled prisoners, stretching from one side of the encampment to the other and stretching back for quite a ways. There were a vast number of prisoners here, far more than he had ever seen collected in one place. The guard continent was equally large, and Rajenique suspected that some of the general infantrymen had been enlisted to the guard corps to help with the unusually large load.
"Why are there so many prisoners?" mused Rajenique idly.
"That's easy," piped Guerru quickly. "We rarely had to inflict grievous casualty before we breached the fort and the defenders capitulated. A few times we actually had a surrender. In any case, there were always many, many people alive at the end of the battle. We've scarcely sustained any losses ourselves."
"Amazing," breathed Rajenique, already trying to calculate how many prisoners they actually had. He stood silently for a long time, looking over the dismal scene. The he turned to Guerru.
"Run back to the warcaptain and tell him that we have around five thousand prisoners. I'm going to go and find out the exact numbers from the gaolmaster."
"Anything else you want me to tell him?" asked Guerru.
"Actually, if you could find the artillerists, tell them to start preparing incendiary charges for the catapults." Guerru looked blank. "Just tell someone on the staff." Guerru hastily nodded and sped back the way they had come as Rajenique took one last look from the vantage point and descended into the mass of bodies.
Many were bloodied or wounded, but few were grievously injured--the commander supposed that those had already died long since. Al of the injuries seemed fairly old, and most seemed hardly hurt at all. Guerru had been correct when he supposed that the fights had been almost bloodless. Eyes stared up at him from all sides as he walked through the main aisle between the bodied. Every person was shackled at the hands and feet, and wore a heavy iron collar around his neck. As the orc moved on, he saw that some were not wearing the collar, and even that a few lacked manacles for their feet. Clearly, resources had been stretched very thin. It was good that they were to get rid of them soon. They could only be a burden on their resources. The pavilions were close now, and a few orcish guards glanced up as he walked past them. He did not know which tent belonged to the gaolmaster, but he would find it quickly.
A few minutes later, he strode firmly out of the largest tent. The gaolmaster had given him the exact figures: they had four thousand eight hundred and twenty four prisoners at the count that morning, although he warned that a few might have died since then. But it was no matter. Rajenique was quite satisfied with the number, and they would have more than enough bargaining power when they got to Langerhans.
It was a veritable maze of tents; many of the guards also had their own tents, although they of course shared with others. Being a member of the gaolmaster's corps was a step of from infantry duty, and one of the perks was a small space in one of the tents. Clearly, more tents had been pressed into use with the increasing numbers of guardsmen, and it was quite obstructive to his movement. There seemed to be eight persons to a tent, and he estimated that there were around fifteen hundred gaolmasters in total--including those hunting or off duty. That would mean that there were at least one hundred and fifty tents bunched up in this area, perhaps a bit less because they probably had put more people in each tent than was strictly recommended. But it was still an impressively large contingent of tents, which explained why he was still pressing his way between the thick canvas walls which were all around him.
Grumbling at the ridiculousness of life (Why hadn't they just had the excess gaolmasters sleep outside!?), Rajenique pressed past another pair of constricting cloth flaps, when a movement behind him momentarily drew his attention. For a second, he discounted it as someone moving within their tent, or perhaps a guard returning to the tents for some reason. It proved to be a crucial second.
There was jangling sound, and now Rajenique whirled around--too late--as a heavy metal chain slipped around his throat. He felt it go taut even as he tried to turn and his hands scrabbled at as it pressed into the chain mesh at his neck, constricting his windpipe cruelly. He gasped and choked, trying to enunciate some word, but nothing could get through the blocked throat. He staggered back, and a blur of motion appeared to his right. For a moment, he could see his attacker, and his attacker could see him. Rajenique gasped again, this time from surprise rather than the lack of air.
Suddenly the chain relaxed, and he heard the musical sound of its links hitting the ground. His assailant stepped in front of him, looking piercingly up into his burning red eyes.
"Dyjha." whispered Rajenique, staring.
"Enriko," replied the boy, equally intensely.
There was a very long pause as the two stood facing one another in the damp morning air. Rajenique's mind raced furiously. It was the most absurd coincidence! How could it be happening! He ought to have never seen the whelp again! Why hadn't he been killed in an offensive? Or fallen during the marches? Why had he been trying to escape just as the orc had been returning!? A million tiny events in life conspiring to reacquaint him with the boy.
And then suddenly his thoughts were interrupted. Dyjha stepped forward brazenly, and reached up toward the orc's green-skinned face. Seizing it viciously, he yanked it down, and kissed the orc fully on the lips. The salty taste of the sweat on the boy's face slipped into the orc's mouth, and soon he was responding, turning his head and sucking at the boy's lips with an almost ravenous frenzy. Their tongues touched, and Enriko's mind surged.
How was this happening! But his body seemed to have developed a mind of its own, for it was continuing in the brutal kiss.
Just as suddenly, Dyjha stepped back and broke the lock. Enriko's head snapped up, eyeing the boy carefully. He was wearing the same sort of oversized pants as he had at their last meeting, but now he sported a dirtied and torn white jacket, which had clearly see far more wear and tear that its stitchings were designed for. His hair was closely shorn, but it had begun to grow again, and a few longer locks hung down into his eyes. It was very dirty, though, as was all of the boy's body, which apparently had not seen water since he had been captured.
"My god," said Dyjha in a tense whisper. "This is like a dream." His lower lip quivered slightly as he gazed up at the stunned Enriko.
"A dream?" asked Enriko in the same whisper, too shocked for the moment to take any action.
"I was wising that you would swoop down and take me out of this place. It was strange, but you were like a hero in my mind."
"That is strange," muttered the orc. "I'm the last person you you'd think of as a hero."
"You're so... so..." Dyjha stepped tentatively forward again, and placed on hand on the burnished breastplate. "Magnificent." Enriko looked down on him without saying anything. Dyjha rubbed the metal, leaving tiny tracks of moisture behind his hand. He looked up again. "I want you so badly."
Enriko swallowed as the boy's bright eyes looked plaintively at him. There was no one around. No one would ever have to know. He glanced to either side, and quickly made his decision.
"I needed a good fuck anyway," he growled. Dyjha followed his gaze, and saw that he has giving a quick check to a tent just to their right. "There's no one in there," he said, nodding to the tent. Dyjha needed no second command, scurrying across the ground, chains clinking slightly, towards the tent.
With a short sigh, Enriko followed. As he pulled back the heavy canvas cloth, he saw that Dyjha was already inside, waiting for him.
"We have to be very quiet," said Enriko in a whisper. "No screaming, no moaning, no sighing!"
"Of course," said Dyjha. He crawled over to the orc. Both had to kneel, for the tent was only a couple meters high. "You're simply radiant," he breathed, rubbing the shining metal of the orc's armor. The orc gazed off into space, seemingly unmoved by the boy's professions.
"So beautiful," he murmured, reaching back behind the orc. He fumbled for a moment with the buckled, and then there was a soft snap as he unclasped the straps for the heavy breastplate. Almost immediately, it sagged forward. Dyjha held it as he undid the second strap, and the plate came off entirely, exposing the chain mesh underneath. He looked at in in puzzlement, seemingly at a loss as to how to remove it.
"I'll have to remove all of the plating first," said Enriko, taking note of the boy's consternation. He quickly unclasped his arm and leg plates, making a neat pile of the metal on the floor. What remained was the chain tunic, Enriko reached behind him and undid a few ties, and the back of it parted. With light fingers, Dyjha removed it from the front, dropping it behind him on the blanketed floor of the tent. Beneath the chain mail, the orc was wearing only soft linens to protect his skin from the abrasive metal. There were a dark gray color, like the rest of the armor. Dyjha moved forward, and his chains rustled again. His hand snaked up and slipped between the folds of the shirting, rubbing the orc's chest. The hand was warm and sensuous, and the orc swallowed again. He didn't like being so controlled, but at the same time, we wanted the boy to lead this encounter. For a short while, the boy simply rubbed Enriko's chest fiercely, and then without warning, he reached up and removed the shirt entirely.
As the gray fabric fell down around his waist, the orc's mighty torso was laid bare. It was mottled green and mauve, with a line of black spots starting at his neck, snaking down between the pectorals and abs, and disappearing beneath the shirting below, which was already tenting up with the length of the orc's swelling member. He was incredibly muscled, with massive pecs hanging over his washboard abs, black nipples large and rigid under the boy's massage. The boy pushed the orc back, and Enriko allowed himself to fall, as the boy threw himself down on top of him, his hands still exploring every crevice of the impressive musculature. Dyjha moved the side of his head up and down, letting his hair fall lightly against the skin. Enriko looked intensely at the boy's sliding head, and thought of what was being given to him.
Then Dyjha rose partially and pulled up the charcoal fabric of the waistcloth, bunching all of the line around the orc's waist. Beneath the tunic, the orc was protected by a massive cup the size of a grapefruit which covered the orc's crotch, held by a triplet of dark straps. It was already being pushed away by the orc's erection, and Dyjha only had to move it slightly for the metal hemisphere to suddenly be thrust aside as the cock bounded into view.
It was as glorious as he last remembered it, and still swelling to its full length as he stood transfixed by its appearance. It quivered slightly in the air without support, and gray-black liquid--orcish precum?--oozed in small quantity from its hooded tip. It looked wicked and enticing at the same time, and Dyjha knew immediately what he wanted. It was like a god, that massive black snake, and he wanted to have it. He wanted it so badly that his own cock, stiff and painfully erect, was already near cumming just from looking at it. He crawled forward again, arms and legs on either side of the supine orc, until his face was over Enriko's. He kissed the orc fiercely again, biting at his lip and face. Enriko waited a moment to reciprocate, but then did so with a vengeance, his tusks biting into the soft flesh of Enriko's cheeks and his teeth working on the lips. The had, metallic taste of flood spurted out, and they both savored it quietly, drinking it back in as it leaked form the cuts and abrasions. For a minute longer, they were locked in passionate jousting, and then Dyjha abruptly pulled his head up.
The orc's cock was fully erect now, pointing diagonally both upwards and toward the orc's head. The bulbous tip was fully exposed, and glistened with the tiny drops of precum that crowned it. Dyjha moved back and partially stood over the member, then reached down and hand to bring it completely upright. It immediately responded, standing up under the direction of his hand, pointing to the top of the tent. Dyjha deftly maneuvered backwards, and then without ado or preface, dropped himself unceremoniously onto the cock.
Enriko wheezed quietly as the boy's body sank rapidly down the length of the cock. But it was Dyjha who exercised supreme will in not crying out as his asshole was distended once more around the member. But he knew what he wanted; he knew what reward would eventually be his. He lifted his legs from the ground, let his body rest entirely on the erect organ. For a moment, it shivered as he retracted his feet, and then with a sticky sound of flesh stretching, Dyjha fell downwards, impaling himself on the monstrous cock. His mouth was open and tiny grunting sounds came from this throat, borne of the no doubt immense pain that must have welled up as he slid down the shaft. But there was yet more, and he continued to sink, continued to take more and more of the black-skinned pole up his boy asshole.
And then the moment of triumph. There were a good ten centimeters left below him as Dyjha felt the familiar ache in his gut, and then the exquisitely sensual feeling as the orc's cock surged through his asshole and into his colon. Ten centimeters poured into him, and then he felt the linen and skin below him, and knew that he had taken the entire rod up his ass. Enriko surged and bucked beneath him now, and the cock swelled and danced within his guts, bring new sensation of ecstasy to his young body. He would have yelled, he wanted to scream out his joy, but the thought of Enriko's admonition, still hovering at the forefront of his mind, kept him from doing so. His hands grasped the sides of the orc's body, and he rode the bucking orc, his ass moving up and down the shaft with a slick scraping sound, as both orc and boy closed their eyes with the sheer power of the moment.
As before, the boy cummed first. A jet of white semen erupted from the tip of his erect cock, spraying down the length of the orc's chest and onto his face. Then another came, and another. Within a minute, the orc was covered in the sticky-sweet boycum of the orgiastically swaying Dyjha, who continued to ride the orc even after he himself had gotten off. The orc arced his back one final time, and Dyjha's head hit the ceiling of the tent lightly. With a spasming shudder down the length of the orc's frame, Dyjha felt the cum erupt into his body, spurting out of the erect cock like a volcanic eruption. It went on for half a minute, the series of intense ejaculations, and then the orc sank back down, his strength spent as surely as was the boy's. The boy snaked forward, cock still embedded in his ass, and he could feel the tiny needles of the orc's cock digging into the sides of his asshole. He slid his head close to the orc's and whispered:
"How long?" The orc smiled softly, and looked down and where the boy's ass rested on his groin.
"Several hours at least before they retract fully," he said.
"I wanted some sleep anyway," said Dyjha, laughing.
Enriko was awakened suddenly by the sound of footsteps and cloth moving. Dyjha was laying to his side, his cock having shrunk and retracted from the boy's hole as they slept. But now he could see a shape moving outside the tent, and saw that the flap was opening. It was too late to hide; too late to dress; too late to do anything but...
An orc--one he had never seen before--entered the tent without a second thought, and Enriko quickly launched himself forward, slamming an arm around the orc's neck and pinning him to the ground. For a brief moment, the orc beneath him squirmed and tried to toss him off, but Enriko was in prime condition and was certainly not going to be bucked.
"Shut up or I'll break your neck," whispered Enriko fiercely. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Dyjha was in plain sight, still asleep, and it was impossible that the orc had not seen him yet. "What did you see."
"You fucked a prisoner. That's what I saw." Enriko slapped him with his free hand.
"No, you didn't. There was no one here."
"Sure, then. I didn't see nothing." The orc beneath him grinned. "Can I go now?"
"No," said Enriko firmly. He was sure that the orc did not know who he was. Yet. But he was certain that this guy would tell others of what had happened, and before long... He reached with one of his feet and nudged Dyjha. Yawning, the boy sat up, and started immediately at the sight.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"There's been an rude interruption," said Enriko, pushing the orc's face into the ground.
"Shit," said Dyjha, suddenly comprehending the problem.
"There's only one solution," said Enriko tersely, still holding the intruder's head in the blankets. He gestured to the boy. "Get over here." Without hesitation, Dyjha scrambled over to where Enriko was holding the orc down.
For a moment, Enriko released his hold on the orc, allowing his head to bob up again. "What's your name, soldier?"
"Oneiru," he gasped, sucking in air. "I--"
"That's enough," said Enriko quickly, pushing his head back down again. "Dyjha, fuck him." The boy's eyes opened wide, as did no doubt those of the orc underneath him, be began to squirm again and make muffled sounds. "Dammit, do it quickly," said Enriko, pulling Dyjha up.
"I've never done that before--" began Dyjha apologetically, but Enriko cut him off "There's a first time for everything. Get on with it." Oneiru was just a gaolmaster, so he did not have any bulky armor, only padded clothing.
Enriko reached down and ripped away the seat of his trousers, exposing a tiny puckered black hole in the center of his ass, which was only poorly differentiated into buttocks. Dyjha looked aghast.
"You want me to fit into that!?" he asked. "It's minuscule!"
"He doesn't," growled Enriko dangerously "have a very large asshole. Now do it! Someone could be here any minute!" More squirming from the prostrate Oneiru, skillfully restrained by Enriko, who was still glaring dangerously at the boy.
Finally, Dyjha seemed to grasp the urgency of the situation, and he quickly dropped his drawers. He cock was still limp and small, and he rapidly pumped his hand back and forth on it. Within in a minute, he had it at full seventeen-centimeter length. Still, the hole looked awfully small, and even his dick, which was scarcely eight centimeters in diameter, seemed far too large. But by now he was tired of arguing with Enriko, so he placed the bulbous tip at the lip of the hole. It looked huge in comparison, but Enriko nodded to him. Dyjha rose up on his knees, and then pushed brutally forward.
Almost immediately, he saw that there would be problems. His forward movement was immediately arrested as the cockhead pushed into the hole, and then stuck. He pushed harder, but to no avail. Behind the cockhead, the organ swelled to much to fit in. Enriko breathed angrily between his teeth, grasped Dyjha with one hand by the back, and pushed forward. With a popping sound, Dyjha coasted in, and Oneiru's body writhed in pain, muffled screams reverberating quietly about the tiny tent. Now that the intial hurdle had been bridged, Dyjha found that he cold with great effort push farther in, as he did, until all eighteen inches were embedded in the prostrate orc, who was virtually in conniptions. He pumped back and forth a few times, but the going was tough, as every movement was a battle in the tiny orcish anal canal. He could feel the dry scrape o the flesh past his smooth cock, but even still, he knew that taking the orc dry had been a mistake. He ought to have at least lubricated his cock first. But now it was too late, and he was forced to labor for every movement. He seesawed back and forth, eliciting moans of great pain from Oneiru at every change of position. He was breathing hard, panting from the exertion, sweat streaming from his nearly-naked body. He went in and then pulled out, thrust in hard, and then slid out, over and over again, as the green-skinned body beneath thrashed from the pain that must have burned in it.
Finally, he felt Enriko's hands on him once more, pulling him back. He needed the orc's strength, for he would not have had the power to pull himself entirely from Oneiru's constricted hole. He fell back, totally exhausted, as Enriko carefully clambered off of Oneiru's back. The orc was unconscious, and blood dribbled form his asshole, making a puddle on the blanketed floor. Enriko crawled quickly over to his armor, and smoothed down his tunic, pulling his shirt back up over his torso and straightening his tunic. Reaching underneath, he pulled his long prick out of sight , and must have re-covered it with the cup, because the penis did not fall back into view when he removed his hand. He pulled his mail shirt out from under Oneiru, and donned it once more, then strapped each of his plates on in turn. By the time he was done, he looked slightly disheveled, but not particularly as though he had just engaged in the tumultuous orgy that he had.
"Dyjha, get out of here," he ordered. "You'll have to go back to the other prisoners for the time being. I'll be able to arrange for your escape in a few days--if you keep your mouth shut about all this." Dyjha opened his mouth to protest, but the orc interrupted him. "Do it or you'll never get out of here. I'll keep you safe. Just shut up."
The boy scrambled quickly out of the tent, pulling his cum-soaked trousers on as he did so, white shirt rippling behind him. He did look discombobulated, but he was a prisoner. No one cared. He listened to the rattling of the chains receding into the distance, and then he stood himself. he approached the door to the tent, and then looked back at the comatose orc on the ground. With a quick flick of the leg, his booted foot came down on Oneiru's neck, and with a sickening crunch, the coma became death.
Satisfied that his secret was safe, Commander Rajenique exited the tent, leaving both the body and the part of him that was Enriko behind.
It was several days later by the time that Rajenique had any real call for action again. Once he had returned from his encounter with Dyjha, he had had a few brief talks with the warcaptain as to the potential of transferring the prisoners, and they had both agreed that it was a god plan and that they could very likely get all the supplies that they would need. More cogently in Rajenique's mind was that in the tumult of moving the prisoners, one might be able to get lost without too much of an upset.
In the meantime, thought, Rajenique did not have much to do besides explain the more subtle parts of was to Guerru (who seemed to have an insatiable enthusiasm for learning about such things) and fantasize about the encounter with Dyjha. For some reason, the boy remained in his mind, and he often caught himself daydreaming as he jacked off about the young human prisoner. On a few occasions, he entertained--very briefly--the thought of approaching him again, but it would be too dangerous, with all the prisoners congregated in that one place. Perhaps when he let Dyjha escape, he would have the time. The very thought of another encounter would easily have him cumming.
The three days passed very slowly, but as the afternoon passed on the third, the small spires of the fort cam into view, and by early evening, they were camped before its gates. They had sent word ahead with runners to the lycin that they were coming, although they had not explained just why, only that they did not intent any military action against them.
So, as the orc battalion set up camp, Rajenique, the warcaptain, and a company of men set out toward the gates to meet with the lycin commander and negotiate a barter agreement. At the gate, they were informed by a disembodied voice from within that they would have to leave their troops outside, but that the commanders were welcome to come in and discuss the possibilities with them. After a bit of fruitless negotiation, Rajenique dismissed their guard and the gates were quickly opened for their entry. After a brief trip down a few passages (Rajenique thought that this fort was very much like that in which he had been imprisoned before), they were led into a massive room, where they could see a lycin feasting quite clearly at the end of a table.
Lycin, of course, was the human name for them, and Rajenique thought it ironic that it was the name that should have stuck, when the elves and humans were so opposed to them. But it was perfectly accurate. They were a sort of wolf-man being, bipedal, and possessing the most basic of humanoid proportions, but otherwise, like a wolf, with head, paws, and a tail all reminding the observer of their lupine heritage. No one was quite sure whether they were actually descended from actual wolves or humans, and none really cared. The lycin were unadulteratedly savage and it generally did little good to ally with them, for they would betray their most stoic compatriots when it suited their interests.
The meal which lined the table spoke of another one of the lycin tendencies. Where even orcs were loathe to partake of the flesh of other sentient beings, the lycin made it their delicacy. Indeed, as Rajenique had observed earlier, the primary reason why the lycin attacked the human and elvish strongholds was to gain access to the bodies of their defenders. Lycin, of course, preferred their prey alive and squirming, but any defender of half a mind would kill himself before such capture when he saw that the lycin were the attackers. Thus, they rarely had the opportunity for such pleasures. Rajenique thought that the idea of all of those live, breathing prisoners would set their mouths awater. Certainly more than the insipid elvish rations could.
It was through another quirk that the orcs themselves remained untargeted by the lycin. The flesh of the orcish race was by some strange evolutionary bias singularly distasteful, in some cases even harmful, to the lycin palate, and they strayed far from attacking the orcs. Although certainly they had no compunctions to doing so, they two races had maintained a careful armistice as neither had then much to gain from hostilities. This armistice had been best maintained by total noninteraction, but in cases like this, Rajenique was forced to deal with them.
"Welcome," grunted the lycin at the table, not looking up from his meal. "I am Jet Pyritt. Care to join me?" He proffered a bloody piece of meat which looked as though it had once been an arm.
"No, thank you, Jet," replied Rajenique diplomatically. "I think that we can be done with our business quickly, and you can return to your meal with all haste."
"I'm not leaving it," said Pyritt raucously, laughing to himself. "But, really, Commander of the orcish army. What can I do for you?"
"It's what I can do for you," said Rajenique. "Why bother yourself with this cold, dead meat when you could be swimming in the live variety." Pyritt looked definitively interested.
"And how might that be?" he asked, looking up.
"I find myself in the possession of a large number of prisoners--human, elvish, a few other assorted species. Nothing orcish, I assure you."
"How many," asked the lycin, eyes gleaming.
"I could give you as many as forty-eight hundred person," replied Rajenique. "How many can you handle?" The lycin's grin was broad as exposed the bloody meat stuck in his teeth.
"As many as you have and more, Commander. We're a very hospitable bunch."
"I thought so," said the orc. "And in return, all we wish is your goodwill and the elvish rations that were no doubt stockpiled in the fort when you captured it."
"Those q'drak things! We would give them to you free." He paused. "Not, of course, that we would hesitate to accept your prisoners in exchange."
"Certainly not," said the commander. "How many packages of rations do you have here."
"Several storerooms full, at least. I can give you all of them." The lycin laughed again.
"Shall be conduct the exchange in the morning? You'll bring the rations to the gate, and we'll bring the prisoners?"
"Commander," said the lycin, finally standing and striding over to him. "I believe that this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
By the time Rajenique and Mirkhath returned to the camp, it was deepening night, and they each turned to go their separate ways. But just as they were moving apart, a thought struck Rajenique, and he called out:
"Warcaptain!" Quickly, Mirkhath strode back toward the commander.
"What is it?"
"I just had a thought: it's going to take some time and effort to move all of our prisoners up to the front of the lines tomorrow morning. We want to get a move on as soon as possible, and I certainly don't want the lycin getting hungry while we're still bringing the captives forward. I've heard that the feeding frenzies can get almost orgiastic."
"Then you've heard more than I, commander," said Mirkhath.
"So let's start bringing them forward tonight. By morning, everything should be ready, and it's the lycin's problem how to get them all into the fort."
"But, Commander Rajenique, if I may, it is far easier for captives to escape by night than by day, and this move will no doubt be a perfect opportunity."
"If we lose a few, it's no great loss, and our own speed is of paramount importance. Every moment we delay is an extra moment that Ibistethlin was to prepare."
"You are correct, Commander. I will begin the transfer immediately." Rajenique nodded, and Mirkhath ducked out of sight into the darkness. Now, to get Dyjha and get out of here!
Rajenique returned to his tent and waited for about an hour, until he was certain that the orders had been given and the process was fully underway. He could hear booted feet and the pattering of bare feet moving along in the night outside. Slipping quietly from his tent, he stalked purposefully down the ranks of the sleeping orcs. Every few meters, there was a sentry, watching the lies of prisoners passing by and checking for attackers. Not that there would be any, of course. But it was policy, all the same.
Ten minutes later, Rajenique had reached the prisoners' compound. There were already small corners from which the prisoners had been moved, but the vast majority were still there, many sleeping, unaware of the grisly fate which awaited them. But that was not Rajenique's concern at the moment. He needed to find Dyjha, a prospect that was seeming increasingly unlikely as he stared over the masses of dirty bodies. But the prospect of the rest of the night and Dyjha proved to be overpowering, and he strode down into the pit of prisoners.
He methodically strode down each horizontal row, glancing to either side to try to pick out a face, the white jacket, anything that might give a sign of Dyjha's presence. It was nearly twenty minutes before he found him, and the pool of prisoners had become noticeably depleted by the transfer. It would be over well before daybreak, Rajenique realized.
But now that he had found the (slumbering) boy, his troubled were over. Roughly, he reached down and hauled him to his feet, sleep vanishing from the human's eyes as quickly as he was dragged up. Ever so quietly, the orc hissed "shhh," and Dyjha's eyes lit up. Placing the boy firmly before him and taking hold of his neckchain, Rajenique marched him back down the row of prisoners, and down into the campfires of the sleeping orcish horde. A few sentries glanced up at him as he passed by, but it was not anything special enough to be commented on. As odd as it was to see a commanding officer (as was no doubt evidenced by his armor) escorting a prisoner forward, it was certainly within grounds of normality, and thus not worth disturbing the CO about.
However, taking this prisoner away from the campfires was quite another thing. Rajenique glanced carefully back and forth, and finally led the boy into a small cloister of tents. Seeing that there were no patrolling sentries around, he took the lead, pulling the chain forward, as Dyjha stumbled along. He darted out from between the tents, quickly climbing the rocky side of the valley. It was no easy task with the shackled boy in tow, but the slope was no too steep, and within a few minutes, they had attained the top. Rajenique afforded himself only the quickest of glances back, and saw that there seemed to be no response from the camp--if anyone had seen him leave, they would let it be. Satisfied, he hurried with Dyjha into the woods, determined not to let anyone see the glint of his armor for any longer than possible.
The climb up the slope had already taken them at least thirty meters from even the edges of the encampment, so after another ten meters of penetration into the woods, Rajenique called an abrupt stop.
"This is where you get off," he said, fishing a ring of keys off of a clasp at his belt. He quickly located the keyhole on the legcuffs, manacles, and collar, and unlocked each in turn. As he removed the last of the them, the collar, he lay it unceremoniously on the moss-covered forest floor, along with the other two.
"Well, you're free now. You can go anywhere, although I wouldn't suggest northeast... that would take you back to the lycin fort. And that would be a distinctly bad idea. But you can go anywhere else from here... I suspect that it's several hundred kilometers to the nearest elvish settlement that e haven't taken yet. But there's no helping that. I suppose--" He was cut off as the boy leaped onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and hands around his neck. With a bemused smile, Dyjha leaned forward and whispered in the orc's ragged green ear:
"No more talk." With that, their lips locked again, and before long, the orc's armor had joined Dyjha's shackles on the ground. Within a few more minutes, the orc's linens and tatters of Dyjha's clothes had been shredded quite thoroughly, but neither of them rolling around vigorously on the soft bed of moss, seemed to care about the fate of their garments.
This time when the orc woke, it was clear that Dyjha had first. It was still dark, but he could see that the boy was gone. His scant clothing which had survived the encounter was gone, and there was little trace f his presence, other than the dried white human cum that was smeared across the moss. He sighed, letting the slight wind trickle across his naked body. He would need to return to the camp soon, but for the time being he could stand to just lie there and think about life. He did that too little. But really, it was the best thing. It really got life in order, thinking about it.
Where was he going with his life? Like so many others, he was in the acclaimed military, and that had for so long been the defining feature in his life, that which everything else centered around. But with Dyjha's interference on his life, he was beginning to wonder if he oughtn't to make some other priorities. Then again, he was perfectly able to continue with his dalliances from where he stood. Perhaps he had a good life after all. Certainly he wasn't about to resign from the military to go chasing after the young human. Still, he hoped that he would see him again someday. But there would no doubt be others, and he was perfectly content to roam where his cock saw fit.
Then he heard a slight movement in the bushes, and he immediately thought that Dyjha must have left something behind, or perhaps had decided to come back! No, that was impossible, he had left long before, and was no doubt many kilometers away by now. He rose to his haunches, and then the source of the movement slipped silently from the trees.
It was a lycin, and one clearly unaware that it was being observed. He crept quietly along, paws taking well to the soft ground, so quietly that even as the orc stared he could scarcely believe that he was there. He must have stepped on a twig before, because this scout was excellent at staying unheard. But clearly, not quite good enough to escape detection by an orc who shouldn't have been out so far from the camp.
"Isn't it a bit odd for the lycin to send out scouts so soon after a victory?" he asked in the lycin's own tongue, standing, if only to alert the lycin to his presence. As predicted, the scout whirled towards him, standing cautiously facing the orc. He said nothing.
Rajenique (or was it now Enriko?) approached the scout carefully. "After all, we're on the best of terms. Why would there be any need to have spies sneaking about in the darkness?" His tone was reasonable, his voice friendly. The lycin took a small step backward, and into a patch a moonlight, which spilled light suddenly onto him.
He was tall, of course, but tall even for a lycin, his head a good hand or two above the orc's. Complementing this, he was also fairly slender, with strong ropy muscles knotted along his arms and legs. He had charcoal fur, interspersed with a few flecks of light gray, and it was tufted and hanging from his body. He had a narrow snout and bright silvery eyes, almost milky in the sudden illumination of the moonlight. But most significant, he wore a tight silver necklace around his thick throat, with a small insignia which Enriko could not determine hanging from its midsection. It was odd, because lycin did not wear jewelry; for that matter, they did not wear anything at all.
"I was sent," said the lycin, finally deciding to speak up--though very quietly--to see how many prisoners you actually had. We saw you moving them up to the front of your lines and thought that we ought to check how many were left."
"Very sensible," said Enriko, equally softly. "How many scouts did you send?"
"Two," he replied. "The other is coming down the other side of the gorge. We meant no disturbance, we merely meant to quietly observe the numbers."
"There's no problem," said the orc lightly. "By the way, friend, what is your name?"
"Kaziji," said the lycin gruffly. "If there's no problem, then may I be on my way. I'm sure that you can understand the constraints of duty and all."
"Indeed," said the orc, somewhat distractedly. His leg muscles tightened invisibly, and his body prepared to move.
"Then, I--" At that moment, the orc launched himself forward, heavy body crashing through the air toward that of the surprised lycin. A stifled groan was all that he could get out before the orc bowled him over.
"You know, Kaziji," Enriko said smoothly. "I've always wanted to fuck a lycin. I'm sorry that it had to be you, but well, shit happens." He looked down at the furry body beneath him, wriggling slightly but not protesting too much. "But, you know, let's cut straight to the chase." He looked back up into the wolfen man's glistening eyes. "You ever been taken dry up the ass before?" he asked cavalierly.
"No," said the scout firmly.
"Then how would you like it? I'm willing to indulge your positional demands." Kaziji did not answer. "Being inexperienced is quite all right! In fact, I've been on an educational circuit recently, so to speak." Kaziji was still silent, staring with hard eyes at the orc.
"In that case, then," sighed the orc with an air of regret. "I'll have to decide." He made a show of looking the lycin up and down. "There's no question," he said. "You are an animal, and you deserve to be taken like one." He looked meaningfully at Kaziji. The lycin just looked blank.
"On your hands and knees," said the orc in a tone or annoyance. "I can't believe that you know so little." The lycin groaned under him, but could not push the orc off his back. "Oh, I forgot. I really ought to get off first." The orc reached down and seized his own cock, just slightly hard and not very stimulated yet.
"This," he said, sitting up, "is a penis." He began to rub his hand fiercely up and down the flaccid length. "To enlarge the penis, one must stimulate it." As if on cue, the rod began to rise and the bulb to peek out from under the foreskin. In a short while, the cock was fully engorged, as before, and the wolf beneath him was breathing hard.
"It's a pretty arousing experience even watching, wouldn't you say?" asked the orc, who was only panting slightly. "Here's another little bonanza." He brought the tip of the cock up, and said cheerily: "Now open wide." The lycin hesitated for a moment, and then opened his maw wide. The orc could see bits of meat still stuck to the cruelly, pointed incisors. But he quickly positioned his cock, and yanked on it a few more times.
A sticky blob of gray-black cum erupted from the tip and catapulted through the short distance to the wolf's mouth. It splattered against the side of his mouth, some oozing down his face, but most disappearing into his mouth. Within a moment, his long red tongue had slipped from inside and was licking up the cum that had originally escaped.
"Good, eh? Now be a good boy and you'll get more." The orc slowly stood up, watching the lycin carefully. "If you want to run, I suppose that you can now. But think of what you'd be missing." He wiggled his cock up and down. He waited a few moments, and then, seeing the lycin still laying on the ground, staring up at the cock, he continued.
"Good choice. Now on your hands and knees." Obediently, the lycin flipped over, baring its ass to the sky. Its bushy tail bounced to and fro, obscuring what might lay beneath, but the orc was willing to waste no time. Reaching down, he grasped the tail firmly at the base and held it up, exposing a massive asshole underneath.
"My, but this is large," said Enriko appreciatively, eyeballing it. "This should be easier on both of us." He walked up behind the kneeling lycin and reached between the back legs, feeling for a moment and then clutching its cock, which had now emerged completely from the sheath and was dangling freely. The knot was partially swollen, and he could feel precum at the tip. It was a long cock, but he couldn't tell just how long, as it was hidden under the wolf's body. But the inspection of the lycin's member did not last for long. Enriko was eager to finish his experiment. He let go of the cock, and grasped his own, still largely free of any moisture, and positioned its bulbous head at the opening to Kaziji's hole. It barely stayed out so large was it, and he did not wait. He thrust in, and found it just as easy going in as expected. For ten centimeters, it was easy sailing, and both he and Kaziji had only pleasure. But suddenly he found his progress arrested by sudden tightness. He thrust against it, was it was strong and unyielding.
After a few more abortive attempts, he finally, drew back his hips and rammed in once more. There was brief pain as the obstruction crushed his cock, and then it finally gave. The bulb surged into new territory, tight and smooth around it. Easy to move forward but always pressing in hard on the shaft, it was like heaven. Twenty centimeters more of cock slid in, reveling in the wolf's ass.
"My god, you're so tight," said the orc appreciatively, pulling hard at the lycin's body. His cock simply lay in place for a moment, and then it abruptly slid out, prompting Kaziji to look back at the orc in concern.
"Don't worry," Enriko whispered. "Don't worry," he repeated again, as he rammed the cock back into the wolf. Kaziji shuddered as it plunged back into him, and the orc almost immediately pulled back. In and out the cock bobbed, black length alternatively sinking into and flying out of the wolf's black-furred ass. "Don't worry," the orc repeated, like a mantra, as he fucked the virgin hole, as if that only would keep his thrusts in time. Kaziji ground his ass into the orc's cock, pulling tighter around it every time, as he dilated and constricted his asshole in as careful time as the orc's thrusts. Soon the gentle wheezing of both with the exertion had risen into a firestorm of moaning, the slick sound of the cock sliding back and forth combining with the soft sighing of the orc and the gentle grunting of the lycin. The orc, feeling himself near his climax, leaned forward, and ran his claws through the wolf's furred skin, feeling with satisfaction the rending of flesh beneath them and the sticky feeling of blood spilling out. He rent the flesh again, and arced his back as his cock thrust farther in than before, and ramming itself into the lycin's deepest parts and spasming as the cum flooded out. The wolf threw back its head as the orc raked his claws across its chest once more, and howled, as the wolf shot load after load into its engorged ass. Its howl trumpeted through the night, and then died, falling away into echoes in the gully. There would be no way for the guard to know whence it came, thought the orc, as he felt the spines on his cock strengthening and digging into the lycin's soft, tight flesh.
He waited a moment, and then he yanked the cock out, pulling his hands back in a final, savage gash that culminated the sex as firmly as did the climax.
The wolf howled again, but this one warbled and whimpered as the pain spread up in excruciating waves from its ass. There was dark red blood coming out, almost violet in color, but the lycin seemed not too disturbed; no more disturbed than it was at the numerous wounds on its chest. It howled once more, a plaintiff cry, wondering why it was over, and why he was there, and then he fell silent, collapsing on his haunches, back legs giving out and falling. He panted heavily, as before, catching his breath, and the orc leaned back against a nearby tree, doing the same. In a few minutes, the lycin rose from the ground, painfully balancing on his legs, trying not to strain to much the still-bleeding ass.
Enriko could see the lycin's chest now: it was a bloody mess, crisscrossed by a myriad tiny streaks of blood, each of which slowly oozed the magenta stuff into his black fur. He looked eve taller now, as Enriko hunched up against the tree, and Enriko felt strangely proud for having taken the lycin and rent his mark into him. He felt powerful, puissant, and the lycin still looked incredibly sexy as he stood silently looking at his assailant. They stood for a long time, simply looking at one another, and then Kaziji strode awkwardly, limping slightly, off into the trees, stopping just at the edge and looking back at the orc, leaning against the tree.
"Thank you, orc," he said quietly. "But duty still calls. By the way, you never told me your name..." The orc suddenly looked up.
"Enriko," he said firmly. "My name is Enriko." The lycin nodded, and headed back into the trees. No doubt, he would return and report on the number of prisoners that they were to transfer.
As Enriko put his armor back on, slowly feeling the Rajenique rising back up within him, he retained a bit of that feeling of victory. Enriko the Conqueror! Rajenique had taken many cities, had led campaigns, but Enriko was the Conqueror! It felt good, and the orc was unusually elated as he headed back into the encampment. Both Rajenique and Enriko lived now, and he doubted that either would ever now leave.
With their supplies, the horde moved onward to Ibistethlin. There were easily enough for several months of siege, but Rajenique felt sure that the fort would not hold out that long. He proved correct when the fort fell three weeks into the siege, under mysterious circumstances. The commander himself came out to deliver a surrender, claiming that food had run out and he could not demand that his men starve themselves for victory. Oddly, when inventory was taken of the fort's stores, several weeks more of foodstuffs were found, quite obvious and seemingly quite palatable. A few questioned this strange turn of events, but few concerned themselves long with it. Rajenique, on the other hand, felt strong again, stronger than ever before, and he was satisfied that his life would go comfortably on.