the orcs raided your village in the middle of the night. they took you as ransom.
they were incredibly intelligent and capable warriors capable of so much grace for their size. they entered a kingdom made of stone and foliage, where everything natural speaks to your people, and they still evaded detection. they didn’t even wake you, the elves’ prince, until the sun woke you itself the next morning. they had put you in a soft bed with fluffy blankets and pillows in a stone cave with brambles braided at the entrance. you blinked awake while while the blankets and your nightshirt slipped down your arm, revealing half of your torso.
you recognized the orc that sat in the room with you. he was their leader, the scars and ornate body paint familiar to you. you had noticed, when he negotiated with your mother, how his eyes lingered to you. you notice it now, but you do not pull up the blankets to hide your chest.
“Good morning, highness,” he says, “do not be afraid. we mean you no harm and intend to take you home when the month is over. we simply needed you to make a point.”
“and what point is that?”
“your mother is very respectful and an ally to our kingdom. other elves, however, do not share her view. we took you to show them our might. our capability, our strength. our stealth and power.”
“i am impressed,” you tell him, sliding graceful legs to the bedside so that you could face him. he must have known the sleepclothes he brought you in, yet still his gaze flicks to the open expanse of your thighs, hardly hidden by the fabric that bunches up at your hip. “And what would you have me do, while i am your captive prisoner?”
“live,” he answers, “converse. sleep and eat well. we chose to take you because we believed that you would not return home and plea war, and we believed the same of your mother. we wish to make a statement, not provoke.”
“understood,” you say, slipping the inside of your lower lip between your teeth and sliding your thighs apart. “but what would you have me do while i am here?”
“what do you mean?” your teeth grow sharp as you smile at him, sliding your palms over your inner thighs and curling your fingers over the edge of the mattress.
“you are not the first to look at me the way you do,” you simper, tilting your head to expose your neck to him. “and i, as a prince, am accustomed to a certain lifestyle that you have managed to deprive me of in your incredibly noble mission.”
“my deepest apologies, your highness,” the orc responds, standing from his seat and stepping to you. he would tower over you if you were standing, but sitting like this, you have to drop your head back to meet his eye. “allow me to offer you my services in replacement of anything you find yourself missing.”
you lean in to him, lifting your hands to his body. his hip bones are at eye level.
“anything?” you ask, pressing your cheek to him. his pants are softer than you expected, but your temple and ear brush his bare skin just above the waistline.
“whatever you require, highness.”
you wrap your legs around his thigh and press a kiss to his skin, reaching around to his ass and pawing at it to pull him impossibly closer.
“i always get fucked when i wake up,” you tell him, lazing your tongue across the inside of his hip, pulling down his waistline with your teeth.
“quite debased, for a royal,” he answers, gently prying you off of him before hoisting you up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. he lays his chin on your thigh. “i can treat you the way a royal should be.”
with his teeth alone he rips your bedclothes from you and plunges his tongue into your willing hole. a noise you’re surprised could come out of you rips it’s way from your throat as you dig your heels into his back and your fingers knot into his hair. you can’t help the way it makes your stomach muscles quake and your voice bounce. he fucks into you with his tongue and it already stretches your hole and reaches deep into you. you cum into his mouth, and he licks into you to swallow whatever he can. he drops you into the bed with a laugh while you’re still convulsing with pleasure, and you’ve forgotten how tall he is, because you fall so much further than you expect.
his face is slicked with you, the body paint smeared around his cheeks. he has a hungry smile, like that of a predator, and he pulls the straps and wraps that keep his pants so that they fall to the floor and he can step free.
“i washed before you woke,” he promises, before yanking you toward him by your ankles and bending your knees so he can push a finger inside you. he skips to three when he realizes how aroused and soaked you are, and before long, you’re gripping onto his forearm with all your might, and your fingers only barely overlap around its circumference. he lets out a surprised chuckle when you clamp down around his fingers and cum again.
“look at me, majesty,” he says, and licks his fingers clean of you. you gather your breath as you watch, and he pops his middle finger from his lips, and you can’t take it anymore.
you were impressed by his grace. you have it too, because you pull your legs beneath you and launch at him. you wrap yourself around his torso and smash your lips together, smiling, smearing his body paint.
“on the bed, on your back,” you order him, and he immediately obeys; you pull your legs from beneath him before he traps them. you scoot back until you can feel him, and he radiates warmth, he makes you whimper before he’s even inside you. he holds your hips, but you wouldn’t need it, you’d be able to do this on your own. you sink over him slower than you usually do, but he’s bigger than you usually take, so you’ll accept that. he stretches you more beautifully than you thought possible, and when you rest on his hips, you see him pressing against your stomach.
he goes to lift you, but you push his hands back and shake your head.
“my turn,” you whisper, chest heaving. “my speed.”
“yes, your highness,” he answers, and you take your time to ride him, slow and purposeful and full. it feels like it pushes against your throat whenever you take it all the way, and your whole body flutters with your hole around him. his hands find your hips not to push and pull but to hold on, to keep himself from losing his mind, and it doesn’t work. he slams his hips up and into you when he cums, forcing a choking sound from you. it’s too easy to follow him over the edge as he spasms inside you, and even easier is it to fall on his chest and whimper through your orgasm.
his palm warms your back as he runs his hand slowly up and down your spine, and he has to strain his neck to kiss the top of your head.
“satisfactory, my prince?”
“more than. i’ll miss you when you return me home.”
