Captured by the Orc
Chapter 17: Spill the Wine
True to her word, Rachelle showed up the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that until a week had gone by. Each visit was the same. First, she would check Samson all over, paying close attention to the dark shape still tattooed on his belly. Then she would bring out lunch, which was always a light broth accompanied by a variety of fruits and vegetables. Then, after she’d made sure Samson had eaten enough, Rachelle would rub an ointment-covered cloth all over his body. On the first day, Samson made the mistake of asking what it was.
“Boiled cow urine,” she said. Then, at the look of horror and confusion on his face, she laughed. “We have both lain with orcs, Samson. They are not small, and neither is the damage they leave behind. This will bring back your . . . flexibility.”
This particular morning Rachelle came in as he was shrugging on a large tunic. “Wait, let me help you with that,” she said, and scurried over to his side.
Samson clicked his tongue. “I haven’t needed help dressing since I was a child.”
“We are all naked children in Luthic’s eyes.”
Samson’s laugh was muffled as the shirt went over his head. “Thanks. Luthic may see me naked, but I don’t think the rest of the village should.”
Rachelle raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You’re going outside?”
“That’s the plan.”
That’s right, the escape plan.
For the past week Samson had been considering how to escape the orc village, but he had a hard time remembering anything before the ceremony and the fight let alone the layout of the village. There were other humans here, he knew that. Some, like Rachelle, maybe had grown to like this life, but there had to be one of them who wanted to escape as badly as he did. Someone who’d been here longer, someone who knew the village, who knew the way out . . . and Samson needed to find them.
Rachelle grabbed his face with both hands and tilted his head in different directions, eyeing him closely. “Not today. Tomorrow maybe.”
“But I feel fine.” Samson grabbed a berry and popped it into his mouth as if to prove it. When Rachelle appeared unmoved, he heaved a deep sigh. “I can’t take another day cooped up here by myself.”
“You could spend time with your mate,” Rachelle suggested innocently.
Samson scoffed. He hadn’t seen Dalthu since the night they’d fought. At first, he thought the orc was staying away, but Samson began to notice small changes around the room; a new dent in the pillow next to him, fresh-cut wildflowers on the side table. He deduced that Dalthu was returning late at night, slipping silently into bed beside him and then going again by the time Samson woke in the morning.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
“I should go to him and apologize for letting him screw me, is that it?” he grumbled.
“You’re being petty.”
“I’m being petulant.”
“Potato potato.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
Rachelle sighed and stood. She opened a chest next to the table and pulled out a dark green bottle before sitting back down. She stuck her thumb against the top of the cork and with one flick, the cork flew from the bottle and struck the roof of the hut. She emptied Samson’s water cup with a casual toss over her shoulder and then filled it with a rich amber liquid.
“Go on,” she said, pushing the cup towards him. “It’s good, I promise.”
Samson tentatively sniffed the contents. It was unmistakably alcohol. A strong one, too. He tipped the cup back into his mouth and the effect was instant. Samson’s eyes welled up. “That’s some strong stuff,” he coughed.
“Right?” Rachelle smacked her lips. “Some dwarf merchants came to the village a few years ago. They brew it themselves and only drink it after it’s been aged a hundred years.” She took another sip and looked up at the ceiling as she let it slide down her throat. “You know, my first time with Kilug wasn’t perfect. Far from it. I told you that my legs had been broken, but it was even worse than that. I was half-starved and weak as a foshnu. But it didn’t matter. Kilug picked me up and carried me to the village and claimed me right then and there . . .” Rachelle took another swig. “The whole world might as well have been on fire.”
“But you were injured!” Samson sputtered. “What was he thinking?”
Rachelle nodded in a way that accepted his concerns but dismissed them at the same time. “He was probably thinking about what could happen if he didn’t.”
“What—”
“Think, my dear. What happened when it was revealed you hadn’t laid with Dalthu?”
Samson shrugged. “Dalthu and Baronk fought.”
“Dalthu was challenged. For you. Don’t you see? Dalthu waited to claim you because he wanted you to accept him willingly. And because he waited, a warrior is dead and his mate fears him. My son played a dangerous game and lost,” she shrugged. “Kilug did not hesitate and claimed me in front of everyone so there would never be any doubt. He was cruel to be kind.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing!
“So the only way to avoid a bloodbath is to assault someone?!”
“It is the orc’s way.”
“It’s barbaric!”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand,” Samson rasped. “Listen, I'm sorry that your childhood was stolen. I’m sorry that you were treated so terribly and I’m sorry you were left alone to fend for yourself. But you’ve spent too long living this way to see the truth: what Kilug did to you was wrong.”
Rachelle pressed her lips tightly together. “What else could he do? This is the world we live in. Change doesn't happen overnight.”
“But it will never happen if we do nothing. I mean, why couldn’t he just have tried asking or courting?”
“Oh, you would have responded to that? If an enormous creature with tusks marched up to you and said, ‘Hello, I love you, please be my bride and bear my orc children’?” When Samson didn’t reply, she heaved a deep sigh. “Dalthu knows what the world thinks of him. What you, his first love, must think of him. I wish it was different, Samson. I wish the world was fair. But it is not fair; it’s only fairer than death, that’s all.”
The hut was silent. Then Samson spoke. His voice was soft. “His . . . his first love?”
Rachelle lifted the bottle by the neck straight to her lips, missing Samson’s look of stunned confusion. She let out a satisfied sigh. “Hahh, of course. My son is truly and completely besotted with you. Even a zanbaur could see that.”
Samson hid his burning cheeks by taking a deep sip from his cup.
“You know, after the first time, Kilug didn’t take me again for a long while. Oh, he would touch me any chance he got, he’d rile me up and care for my physical needs, but he never fully laid with me again. Not until I asked him. And then . . .” A soft blush flooded her cheeks, and suddenly the weight of her life vanished and she appeared ten years younger. “It was amazing. He’d been pent up for weeks, so after several days of non-stop—” Rachelle glanced up at Samson through fluttering eyelashes. “But you probably don’t want to hear the details . . .”
Samson threw his head back, downing his entire drink in one gulp. He shook his empty cup toward the bottle in Rachelle’s grasp. “Pour me another,” was Samson’s answer. Rachelle smiled as she poured.
***
They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking and talking. The conversation ebbed and flowed, and several empty bottles later found the two cackling like a pair of geese. Rachelle was regaling Samson with a story about the time Kilug had returned from a raiding party.
“They had, had all thessse, you know . . .” Rachelle’s head wobbled. She had been trying to finish her story for the past ten minutes. “They had allllllllll these leather straps! And belts! And he just,” she blew a raspberry, “he just drops the bag in front of me and out rolls this big, black—”
Kilug chose that exact moment to walk into the hut, which caused Rachelle and Samson to collapse into a fit of giggles. Kilug cocked his eyebrow. “I was wondering where you were,” Kilug kicked an empty bottle with his toe. “Been having fun?”
“Mm-hm,” Rachelle hummed lazily. “I’ve been telling Samson alllll about you.”
“So I hear, but it’s time to go now, wife.”
“Oh?” Rachelle rolled forward onto all fours and crawled toward Kilug, swaying her hips seductively back and forth. “Are you telling me what to do? Hm?” Kneeling at his feet, she ran her hands up Kilug’s muscular thighs.
The War Chief blushed and shook his head. “No, no of course not, my—” Kilug caught Samson’s eye as if just realizing he was there. “C—could we do this somewhere else?”
Quick as a snake, Rachelle reached under the orc’s loincloth and grabbed what was hanging defenseless there. “What did you say?”
“Ah!” Kilug’s eyes crossed and his knees wobbled. “Hhnngh, I’m—I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry what?” Rachelle licked her lips.
“I’m sorry. . .” Kilug looked at Samson quickly, then back to Rachelle, and sheepishly said: “My Goth’shok.”
Rachelle released her hold of the orc’s privates and stood up on her tiptoes to stroke his chin. “Good boy,” she purred. “And I believe you’re right.” She cast a mischievous smile back at Samson before grabbing Kilug’s beard and pulling him down to her level. “It is time to go.” And with that, she led him by the beard out of the hut.
Kilug called back as they left. “S–Samson, Dalthu apologizes for his absence but—ow! Wait, Rachelle . . .”
Samson snickered as Kilug’s voice faded away.
I guess I won’t be seeing Dalthu again tonight either.
He wriggled out of his sweaty tunic and flung it onto the ground. Flopping onto the bed, he ran his fingers through the blankets, through long hairs that may have belonged to a musk ox. He felt light and airy, and the fur felt good on his skin. He tried closing his eyes, but the room began to spin.
His first love, huh?
Thoughts of all the firsts he’d experienced with the golden-eyed warrior swam through Samson’s head. It was the first time he’d ever been away from his village. His first time seeing and riding a dire wolf. His first time seeing monsters. His first time having sex . . . A tickling sensation rose from his lower belly as he recalled how the orc’s rough fingers felt on his skin. Samson sighed. “Dalthu . . .”
“Yes?”
Samson’s eyes snapped open. The orc in question was standing in the doorway. “GAH! What are you doing here?!”
“Last time I checked this is where I live,” the orc gave a roguish grin, “But I’m glad to see you’re making yourself at home.”
Samson whipped the covers up over his naked body. “This, this is just . . . you know, it’s perfectly natural—”
“Mhmm,” Dalthu stepped into the room and accidentally kicked an empty bottle, mirroring his father earlier. “I see Mother’s been here,” he muttered.
“And how was I supposed to know you’d be back?” Samson continued. He thrust his chin forward. “You’ve been avoiding me all this time.”
That stopped Dalthu in his tracks. He stared curiously over at Samson. “Are you angry?”
“OH I’m waaay past angry,” Samson slurred. “Stupid orc. First you kidnyap me from my home, cover me in the blood of a—a—what the hell was that thing, it had sooo many eyes . . . wait, what was . . . oh, then you shoved that pole you call a penis inside me—” Samson was standing now, though, not all that well, “In front of everybody, in front of your mom—” Samson jabbed a finger into Dalthu’s chest. “And then . . . and then, you left me alone. Ssstupid orc.”
Dalthu had a funny look on his face. “I’m sorry. I asked my father to tell you I would be coming home early today. And as for avoiding you,” the orc pressed his lips together. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . " Samson chewed his lower lip and sighed. "I don’t know.”
Dalthu watched him quietly for a moment then went for the pitcher. He poured a cup and held it out to Samson. “You need water.”
“I don’t want it.” Samson hiccuped.
“Samson—”
“No.” Samson slapped the hand holding the cup, spilling it on the ground. Dalthu started refilling the cup.
“You’re going to feel worse tomorrow so—”
“No!” Samson meant to push the orc, but instead pushed the pitcher and the cup towards him. They smashed against his chest and water exploded onto Dalthu’s clothes. Samson gasped but felt strangely pleased with himself.
“You know what,” Dalthu sighed. “Nevermind water. You just need to sleep. We both do.”
The water had drenched the warrior’s tunic and it clung to his broad chest and powerful shoulders. Dalthu pulled the shirt over his head and Samson watched his defined back muscles flex under the skin. The scars shifted along his shoulder blades. His chest hair was glistening and wet from the water. Samson’s fingers twitched.
I want to run my hands through it . . . wait, no, what am I thinking?!
“Ugh!” Samson grabbed one of his pillows and hurled it across the room at Dalthu. It hit the orc right in the chest with a whump.
The orc looked down at where the pillow hit him in confusion.
“I’m not sorry!” Samson huffed and rolled over onto his side, pulling the hides up over his head. “Stupid orc.”
That’s right. It’s his fault I’m like this.
Dalthu’s heavy footsteps moved around the hut. The torches were extinguished one by one until the room was completely dark. Samson felt the hides lift up and the cool air washed over his naked back. He shrunk away from it as Dalthu crawled in next to him. Samson could feel the orcs' heartbeat against his back, and Dalthu’s skin was so warm he might not need the covers. He tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach as he listened to Dalthu breathe, but he couldn’t get Rachelle’s words out of his head.
“His first love.”
To be continued . . .
