Illustration By: @golewdgo_

CAPTURED BY THE ORC

Chapter 18: Escort Required

 

Samson was already awake when the sun came up the next morning. He’d been reliving the events of the past few days over and over, wondering if he would ever see his family again. He thought about his brother, Kane. He could be out there searching for him right now. Samson remembered all the dangers he’d faced in the forest. A sharp pain gripped his heart.

 

No. There’s still hope. I can’t give up.

 

The mattress shifted and Samson rolled over in time to watch his captor stretch nude in the middle of the bedroom. Dalthu’s muscles rippled with each bend and twist, his triceps flexed impressively as he reached for the sky. Samson knew firsthand how strong the orc was, but watching him in the morning light, the warrior seemed to have been sculpted from pure jade as a tribute to a deity of beauty. Samson chewed the insides of his cheeks. He couldn’t deny it. Dalthu was strikingly handsome. 

 

For a monster. 

 

Dalthu turned suddenly, revealing his impressive nether regions, and locked eyes with Samson. “Ah,” he scratched his head apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

 

“You didn’t,” Samson replied, averting his gaze. Flashbacks of taking that thick member into his body were all too vivid.

 

I can’t believe that fit inside me.

 

His captor’s brow furrowed and he hurried to Samson’s side. “Bad dreams?”

 

“I just couldn’t sleep.” The orc’s member now bobbed next to Samson’s head. Samson covered his face with both hands.

 

“Is there anything I can do—?”

 

“Other than putting on pants?” Samson's cheeks burned as he gave a pointed nod toward the orc’s swinging manhood. 

 

The orc warrior only then seemed to notice his state of undress. He gave Samson a roguish wink. “Don’t stare,” he said. “You’ll get its hopes up.”

 

“Bastard,” Samson hissed before he could stop himself. 

 

“Yes, darling?”

 

Samson’s mouth went slack.

 

Darling?!

 

He squinted up suspiciously at Dalthu, but the orc only batted his eyes innocently.

 

Fine. If that’s how you’re going to play . . .

 

“Jackass,” Samson snapped.

 

Dalthu’s reply was immediate. “Precious lovely.”

 

“Shithead.”

 

“My sweet beloved.” 

 

“Stinky, flea-bitten mongrel dog.”

 

“Honey dewdrop of joy.”

 

“Bug-eyed, shovel-eared, moss-eating, dick-for-brains brute!” 

 

Dalthu doubled over with laughter as Samson was huffing and puffing. “Haa, oh little tiger,” the orc warrior wiped away a merry tear, “I wish I could spend the whole day exchanging endearments.” He pulled a loincloth around his waist. “Mother probably won’t visit today. Dwarven ale always gives her terrible hangovers.”

 

“That’s fine. I’m going out today anyway.” Samson got out of the cot and slipped his tunic over his shoulders.

 

“Truly?” The orc’s golden eyes shone with happiness. Dalthu clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Then, ah yes, wait a moment . . .” The orc trotted out of the bedroom and returned a moment later holding a leather pouch; it was nearly bursting at the seams and emitted the unmistakable clinking sound of coins. He handed it to Samson with a proud grin. “Here, for you.”

 

Samson hefted the pouch in one hand. 

 

There must be nearly a hundred coins! I could buy my whole village with this. 

 

“What on earth do you expect me to do with this?” he marveled. 

 

“Whatever you want, my little tiger.” 

 

“Oh?” The corner of Samson’s mouth curled up. “What if I want a sapphire the size of an eagle’s egg?”

 

“It shall be yours.”

 

“What about armor made of gold dragon scales?”

 

“I will pull them off of the beast myself.”

 

“How about an elvish princess to sing me lullabies every night?”

 

“What? My voice isn’t sweet enough?” Dalthu chuckled. “As long as she learns one or two orc ballads I suppose you can have your princess.”

 

“Silks?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Furs?”

 

“Anything, little tiger. You can buy anything you desire.”

 

Samson squeezed the pouch, feeling the outline of the coins. “What about my freedom?” 

 

The orc’s smile collapsed. Seconds ticked away before he finally spoke. “There is no treasure on this earth that would be worth that.” Dalthu held out his hand and Samson, thinking his captor wanted the pouch back, held it out for the warrior to take. Instead, Dalthu grasped Samson’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss against his skin. “You are priceless,” he whispered and a thrill ran through Samson. 

 

Don’t let him sway you. Remember your goal. 

 

Samson pulled his hand away, but if his orc captor was disappointed he didn’t show it. Instead, he ducked down to a trunk next to the bed and pulled out a pair of trousers and a fresh tunic. Dalthu tossed them to Samson. “Meet me outside when you’re ready.” When Samson didn't move, the orc heaved an exaggerated sigh, the orc heaved an exaggerated sigh. “If you want me to dress you, little tiger, you only need to ask.”

 

Samson’s stomach did a little flip imagining those golden eyes watching him change, however, he refused to let it show on his face. He put on his best scowl and whipped the trousers at Dalthu, shooing the orc away. Undisturbed, the orc warrior winked and then stepped out of the room.

 

Cheeky bastard. 

 

Samson fought back a grin. He quickly pulled on the fresh change of clothes and, still clutching the bag of coins, followed the orc out of the hut. 

 

Daylight stung Samson’s eyes as he stepped outside and he shielded them with his hand. Letting his eyes adjust, he finally saw his orc captor was a ways off from the hut crouched down in an overgrowth. 

 

"What's wrong?" Samson tried to keep the worry out of his voice as he hurried to Dalthu's side.

 

Is he sick?

 

“Maybe we should go back inside—”

 

Dalthu stood, revealing a posy of wildflowers in his grasp. The warrior’s face was several shades lighter as he held out the small bouquet to Samson. “I didn’t get a chance to replace the ones in the vase yesterday,” he said. “I thought you might want some fresh ones.”

 

Samson was flabbergasted. Was this really the same orc that beat his enemy to death with his bare fists? This vicious killer clutching a bunch of daisies? Samson cleared his throat. “Maybe another time.”

 

Dalthu nodded. He considered the posy in his hands for a moment, then pulled a single violet out of the bundle of flowers and, slowly enough as not to startle a skittish deer, tucked it into Samson’s hair and behind his ear. “Beautiful,” he said. 

 

Samson reached up and brushed his fingers against the petals. It was such a simple thing, so why was his heart racing?

 

The orc turned and walked off toward the other huts. Samson hurried after him, the coins in his pouch jingled loudly with each step. “Where are we going?”

 

“Since mother is indisposed, we need to find you another escort.”

 

“I don’t need one.”

 

“Shakil should be available,” Dalthu continued as if he hadn’t heard. He quickened his pace and led Samson straight toward a hut that had strings of crimson beads draped in front of the entrance.

 

“Throm-ka, Shakil, I have a job for you,” Dalthu called out as he pushed past the beaded curtain and into the hut.  

 

Hot on the orc’s heels, Samson pulled on Dalthu’s elbow. “I said I’m fine.”

 

“You will be safe with him.”

 

“Why won’t you listen—” 

 

“OHhhH Yes! YES! Right THERE!”

 

Samson and Dalthu stopped, but the voice didn’t. The lewd moans and cries continued to crescendo.

 

Oh, dear goddess . . . what should we do?!

 

The back of Samon’s neck felt like it was on fire. He gave a sidelong glance up at his orc companion. Dalthu was trying, and failing, to hide an amused grin creeping across his face.

 

“Finish up and come out, Shakil," the orc choked on a laugh, "I have a job for you."

 

A startled voice called out from the next room, “D—Dalthu? Is that you?” 

 

Before Dalthu could respond, a woman’s voice cut in: “I don’t care if it’s the moon goddess herself, if you pull out now I’ll—”

 

“Damn it, woman, we’re not alone.”

 

“But you said you wanted the whole village to hear me screaming.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then . . .

 

THWAP, THWAP, THWAP—

 

It sounded like the orc was churning butter. The walls rattled with each rhythmic pound and Samson worried that the house could not take much more. The obscene talk from earlier was gone, it was now only shrieks of ecstasy. These erotic noises were starting to affect Samson. He squeezed his thighs together and tried to distract himself from the growing heat in the pit of his belly.

 

They know we’re here, don't they? Have they no shame?

 

“I think we could give them a run for their money.”

 

Samson jumped. While he’d been distracted, Dalthu had leaned in close to his ear. The orc’s voice rumbled deep inside him, and Samson’s limbs went weak with pleasure. Goose bumps pebbled across his skin as his captor’s warm breath tickled the fine hairs on his neck. A forbidden reaction was happening lower. Between his legs, a deep itch was growing.

 

This is just a natural response. That’s all it is.

 

“Samson?”

 

Dizzy with arousal, Samson rolled his head back against the orc’s warm chest. He fluttered his eyes up at Dalthu, who sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you know how you look right now?”

 

“No,” Samson rasped. He was trapped, mesmerized by the shining gaze of his strong orc warrior. “Tell me.”

 

Dalthu’s Zaru’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he did not break eye contact. “You look like you want something from me.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Tell me,” Dalthu urged.

 

Samson licked his lips and relished the fact that the big, strong warrior was unable to look away. He crooked his finger, beckoning Dalthu to come closer, and just as his captor was inches from his face Samson hissed, “I want you to let me go alone.” 

 

Dalthu jerked and Samson was gratified at the look of disappointment on the orc’s face as he realized he’d been played. The muscle along the orc’s jaw flexed. “Careful, little tiger,” he rumbled. “The only place naughty cubs go is over my knee.”

 

Shakil broke the tension as he came panting into the room. He hastily wrapped a takama around his waist as he greeted Samson and Dalthu. “This had better be important, Dalthu Hellfang.”

 

Dalthu looked down his nose at his friend. “Anything concerning my mate is the most important.”

 

Shakil considered this a moment and then turned to Samson. “It’s for something silly, isn’t it?”

 

“Yep,” Samson quipped.

 

“Samson.” Dalthu’s warning was drowned out by Shakil’s booming laughter. The golden-eyed orc sighed. “Samson wishes to see the village. Would you please escort him?”

 

“Why can’t you?” Shakil asked. “Don’t tell me, your mate is tired of you already?”

 

Before Dalthu could retort, a voice dripping with sweetness called out, “Kikiiiiii, who is it?”

 

A disheveled blonde woman stumbled into the room. She had wrapped her body in a long sheet, but it did not hide her curvaceous body or the fact that she was naked underneath. Samson’s cheeks burned and he quickly turned around. 

 

“Aka’Magosh, Adora,” Dalthu said, and Samson was irritated to see that his captor had not followed his example and turned around, but rather was staring openly at the newcomer.

 

“Well, well,” Adora purred. “If it isn’t Dalthu Hellfang. Are you here to steal my mate away?”

 

The golden-eyed warrior smiled at her and Samson felt the tips of his fingers grow cold.

 

Who’s stealing whose mate?

 

Samson clapped his hands against his cheeks. The thought had struck him so suddenly that he was unable to hide his embarrassment. 

 

What the hell is wrong with me?!

 

“Just for a few hours, Adora,” Dalthu continued. “I would be in your debt.”

 

Adora’s eyes glittered. “Very well, I shall part with my darling ‘Kiki for your sake. Now,” she said, zeroing in on Samson, “when were you planning to introduce us?”

 

“Ah, forgive me, my love,” Shakil apologized. “This is Dalthu’s mate, Samson.”

 

The blonde woman’s face lit up when she heard his name and she squealed as she trotted over. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, pulling Samson into a hug.

 

Dalthu told her about me?

 

“When did he—”

 

Adora cupped her hand over Samson’s ear and whispered, “I hear Dalthu walks around in a state of exhaustion these days. We shall have to share techniques, yes?”

 

“Leave him be, temptress,” Shakil wrapped his arm around Adora’s waist, who giggled as the orc threw her over his shoulder. “Pardon me, I will go get ready and tuck this lovely flower back into her garden bed.” Adora squeaked as Shakil gave her rump a playful smack and they disappeared back into the bedroom.

 

Samson and Dalthu stood in silence.

 

“She seems nice,” Samson said.

 

“Very charming,” Dalthu agreed.

 

Samson gritted his teeth. “And beautiful,” he added.

 

Why did it bother him so much?

 

“She is,” Dalthu nodded and Samson felt a knot tighten in his chest, “but, not my taste.”

 

Startled, Samson looked up into the gentle gaze of the golden-eyed warrior. “Really?” He couldn’t imagine any man, orc, or elf who wouldn’t find the doll-like Adora desirable.

 

The orc continued to nod. “In fact, I’m relieved that Shakil has such different preferences, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed him to accompany you.” 

 

“I told you I don’t need a guide,” Samson mumbled, strangely relieved at the orc’s answer.

 

“Samson, I have almost lost you now three times. Please,” Dalthu placed a warm hand on Samson’s shoulders, “for my sake.”

 

Samson didn’t reply but gave a short nod.

 

I supposed having a guide could be useful.

 

Smiling, Dalthu made his way to the beaded door. “Don’t worry, Shakil may act the fool, but he’s really—” 

 

“Come with us.”

 

Dalthu froze. He looked back at Samson with an expression of disbelief. “What?”

 

Samson’s mouth gaped open and close like a fish. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but after Dalthu smiled at him the invitation had just slipped out.

 

“I—I—,” Samson sucked in a breath of courage, “I said, why don’t you come with us?”

 

A myriad of emotions flickered across the warrior’s face. However, the final expression was regret and Samson felt a pit in his stomach. He knew what that look meant.

 

“I’m sorry, Samson—”

 

“It’s fine, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—

 

“Next time, I promise—”

 

“No, you know, it’s fine—

 

“I never thought you would ask—”

 

“Stupid of me, really, actually you’re right—”

 

“Next time, please, I want to go with you . . .”

 

Samson bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore his burning cheeks. He stared at the ground and refused to meet the eyes of the orc standing across from him. Shame and embarrassment coursed through his body and Samson cursed his moment of weakness. 

 

It’s okay. This is better. It will be easier to look for a way out. That’s right. 

 

“Sha! You’re still here?” Shakil re-appeared and came bounding out toward them. He threw his arm around Dalthu’s shoulder. “Leave it to me bodokh, I will show him all the sights of our village. Come Samson,” Shakil threw open the door of the hut. “It’s time for a proper tour!” 

 

To Be Continued . . .