Caelan's Mate

by ViolentAI

Summary:

You are out looking for your son who has run off AGAIN. With Orc Mountain so close, you're worried something might happen to him despite the treaty in affect. Who would look into a small time farmer and her son? But then you meet the Orc who is teaching your son how to defend himself. An Orc who has his eyes on you.

Notes:

Disclaimer: This story is based in the world created by Finley Fenn. My work is mere fanfiction and in no way compares to the amazing time anyone is in for when reading Finley's books. I highly recommend them.

This is PURELY for smut reasons. If you are expecting plot, there will be little.

EDITED 4/5/24: I LIED. I have been waylaid by plot and someone asking for Grandmam's story. We'll get back to smut. Soon. Hopefully. Waiting for a specific point in Grandmam's story before I continue Caelan. Might skip the whole bit with Grandmam for now and just add chapters in later. I miss writing Caelan smut XD

Chapter 1

I huff and puff, stomping up the side of the mountain, grumbling and muttering about how my son needs to learn a hard lesson in staying close to home. The mountain, though not as dangerous as when I were a child, is still no place for a child. And today is the last straw. 

Checked on my child early this morn after waking up an' he wasn't there. Figured he finally got my words through his thick skull and was milking the cow. No. Heavens forbid my son does his chores! 

"Jacob!" My shout bounces off the trees and echoes in the vastness. "Jacob Trawnly, if you don't get your scrawny arse out of these woods I'm going to drag you by the ear out of 'em!" 

I stand there, waiting for my echo to cease. Hoping to hear his fluctuating voice. Silence greets me. I have to shake off my fear. It's still day. He's probably just exploring. He'll be wearing a goofy grin, a load of delectable mushrooms in his arms, and begging to use them in tonight's stew. Yes. That's what'll happen. Any moment now. My steps quicken. "Any moment." I whisper, feeling the fist of fear squeezing my heart.

After another hour of trekking, I am sweating and positively reeking of fear. I stop for a breather. Leaning against a tree. Whump. I cease breathing, listening. I'm about to edge closer to where I last heard the noise when it happens again. Only twice. Whump. Whump.

I take slow, measured steps. Tip toeing practically through the forest. The frequency of the noise occurring more and more. Becoming sharper. Changing from a whump to an almost whip-like sound. I'm at the edge of a clearing I'd shown Jacob many years ago after his father died. But it's not just my son in this clearing.

No. There's something--or someone, else there with him.

My son stands at his gangly height with a wooden sword brandished before him. His breathing is heavy. But what captivates me. Are his eyes. They were sparkling. Like when his father would show him things around the farm. What--Who--?

"C'mon Caelan, you would no' be able tah hit the broad side me mums barn." My brows rose in surprise. Ne'er had Jacob said something so aggressive and taunting before. 

A rumbling voice growls from the other side of the clearing, "Ach, I ken ye might be right, laddie." I jerked my head to look at his companion. I shove my fist into my mouth to stifle my gasp. There, stands a damn behemoth. Well, he's a behemoth to me. I'm just under 5 feet tall and this--this ORC I would probably come up to his pecs-er- armpits. Yeah. Armpits. That's not sexy at all. Thinking about sweat and all those muscles--What is that amazing smell in the air? "Ye say yer dam was an old widow. Her bum likely isnae wide 'nough to 'it."

My cheeks burn red with fury and embarrassment. "I said barn not bum you twit." Jacob grit. 

"Ach, but I ken when a laddie is tryin' ta make his ma out as unattractive." Jacobs ears redden when he is caught in a lie and right now, those ears are probably as red as my cheeks. "Ye forget, laddie," He points his own wooden sword at his chest, "No' a man. Smell yer lie, ye ken?" Jacob nods after murmuring an apology. Caelan stretches. "Noo, I be' yer mum is a righ' pritty lass." And that's when he looks to the right of my boy, directly where I am standing. His black eyes meet mine. Mouth agape. His eyes travel from the top of my head to my feet even though my lower half is covered by a bush. A brilliant and probably the sexiest smirk I've ever seen in my life, graces his lips. "Come, laddie. Le's hev a wee spar 'for I send ye to your mam, ach?" 

Jacob rushes Caelan with a shout. And they proceed to spar. Caelan coaching him in a gentle but firm way. He takes a good amount of hits from my son, enough for me to notice that he doesn't have a single scarred piece of ochre green flesh on him. "I take ye home in a quarter hour?"

Jacob frowns but nods. Caelan's eyes meet mine briefly as I turn around and head back home.

 

I run back home. Full sprint down the mountain. I almost tumble several times but catch myself on trees before they thin out and I can see my farm. But I don't stop until I get into my house. I strip down and out of my leaf stained, twig infested skirts and blouse, and do a quick rinse. I leave the water on to fill a pot, thanking James for the millionth time for learning everything he can about indoor plumbing, and I rush to my room to get dressed. I change into a softened with age blue skirt and a tunic blouse. I flush red when I realize I don't have a single corset or chemise that doesn't need a thorough washing. Grimacing, I just take up a shawl. It's cool enough for it and hopefully the Orc--I mean, my son, doesn't notice. 

I curse beneath my breath. I heave my pot up and out of the sink and waddle to the iron bracket over the fireplace. Heavens, I am glad I've always been a farm girl. Imagine if I were one of those well-to-do ladies-in-waiting. I snort. Probably wouldn't be able to carry a pot this heavy ever. But I've been picking up bales of hay, calves and goats, large pots. Whathaveyou. Muscle’s in my blood but not just that. I’ve had wide hips since before I grew into being a woman. 

I put the potatoes I’d prepared this morning and left in a seasoned soak this morning after chopping them up. I pull a jar from a cabinet and untie the twine keeping it sealed before putting the large chunks of precut brined beef in the pot. Add more veggies that have either been pickled or pulled several days prior. Then, I take the bread that's been rising all day, spread it and roll it into individual buns, and place it in my heated oven. I know I didn’t let it rise twice, forgive me mum, but that’s fine. We’ll be soaking them in the stew anyways. 

I sigh, thankful that I’d finished all of that before the two–Er, my son comes home. I doubt he’ll be bringing an orc home. I scoff at myself. Why would it matter if he came anyways? It wouldn't duh. Simple as that. Yes. Simple.

 

Soooo, simple. I snort laugh as I walk to the barn with a pail in my hands. “C’mon my beauty.” I call. And receive for my efforts a loud and annoyed moo. Poor Beauty. She’s likely been annoyed all day and in a bit of pain due to us not milking her. “Sorry you old girl.” I continue to speak pleasantly to her as I milk her. It calms her and makes the milk letting easier.  

“Mum?” I hear Jacobs tentative voice in the barns doorway.

“In here!” I call out, picking up the heavy pail. “Thanks old girl.” She gives me a plaintive moo. “Tomorrow we’ll be sure to do it on time. Promise.” I arrive at the door, looking at Jacob. “Right?” His ears flush red.

“Ach.” At my frown he jerks away from the door. “I mean yeah mum. Of course.” He’s holding a bag I know we don’t own. “I brought some mushrooms for the stew you said you were making yesterday. Sorry, I was out all day.”

I take him in. My boy. A spitting image of his father. With hair of old gold and brown eyes. A rounded face that is thinning with his transition from a child to a young man. But not just that. I notice the bruises too. The small cuts. The salve and bandages he hides beneath his baggy clothing. All this from his sparring. Sparring he’s not telling me about. Why? 

Something at the edge of my property catches my eye.

“Okay, can you put them in the pot and take this milk inside? I need to make butter and cheese.” Jacob nods, kisses my cheek and heads inside. 

When I’m sure the door is secure, I’m about to call out for the beast of a male to come out of hiding but he’s already strolling towards me. He’s wearing the same clothes as when he was sparring with my son, a long sleeve tunic rolled up to his elbows, a leather vest, trousers, and leather boots. His hair is long enough to be braided and lay over a shoulder. He holds the wooden swords in one hand and a duplicate satchel that my boy was holding.

Chapter 2: Room and Board

Summary:

Dinner then bed?

As he gets closer, I feel myself break into a nervous sweat. He stops about the length of me. Not a bit closer. And still taller than me by nearly two feet. “Donnae be mad at’he laddie, lass.” 

My lips thin. “And why not? He’s skipping off on chores. To spar.”

Caelan grimaces. “Ye ken he does it fur ye, lass.” 

I roll my eyes. “What in the world could sparring do with me?” 

Another grimace, or it just never left his beautiful intelligent face. “T’at isnae ma tale ta tell, ye ken?” He looks at my home. And I sigh. 

“Whatever.” His long pointed ears almost seem to droop. “He’ll tell me eventually.” I turn to walk to the house. When he doesn’t follow I turn to catch him looking almost darkly at my skirt. “Are you coming?”

He jerks himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Coming?”

“To dinner.” 

His brows arch. Before that sexy as sin grin is bestowed upon me. “Ach, if ye’ll ‘ave me.” 

*Yes. I’ll have you now.* Replied my, what I thought was long dead, libido. “Of course. It’s the least I could do for you teaching my son.” I turn to go to the house and I hear a soft growl from behind me. He’s looking down at my skirt once more. I look down and stop myself from yelping. The setting sun is shinning *right* through my skirt. You can see everything. Maybe not in complete detail but you can absolutely make out my rear, my shapely thighs and my muscled calves. I bite my lower lip and hurry inside. And here I was worried about my top!

 

When we enter my home, Jacobs jaw drops. “Caelan!” He shout whispers as if I were not in the room. 

I roll my eyes. “Sit down, Jacob Trawnly.” I turn to Caelan. “Please, make yourself at home.” 

I pull the stew off the fire for a bit, see that Jacob pulled the rolls out of the oven and some butter from the cellar. I get us each a bowl, for the first time since James’ passing, I pull out the third bowl in my cupboard. I caress a chip in the bowl remembering the day it happened and how James had cut his lip on it because he refused to throw out the bowl. 

It has long since smoothed but still, the memory is there. I take a plate out for some rolls. 

I turn for the table and nearly drop the bowls. But Caelan, being right directly behind me, catches them. “Laddie.” He calls and Jacob rushes forward, hands outstretched. Caedan gives the boy the silverware and platter. He takes my elbow and leads me back to the pot of stew. I can’t stop staring into his black as night eyes. “Lass.” He murmurs, handing me the ladle and holding out a bowl. I fill one, he hands it to Jacob to place at the table, and then we move to the next.

At the last bowl, our hands graze for the final time. “Thank you.” I murmur almost breathlessly. 

That slow creeping gorgeous smile. I inwardly fan myself. “Isnae a h’rdship.” With a hand that I notice has sharp beautiful black claws, he moves the iron bar back over the fire. “Come.” He growls, looking down at my tunic this time. I look down too and flush red, pulling up my shawl to cover my obviously aroused chest. I clear my throat and step around him. He turns with me but watches me until I sit down. 

Jacob sits then and finally Caelan. I reach for a roll but Caelan is already handing me one. “Oh. Thank you.” I take the roll. 

“Noo,” He begins, his voice filling the space like spiced cider filling my veins. “Star’in’ on th’morrow, ye, laddie, will do yer chores like yer suppose to, ach?”

His ears are so red right now. As if he’s being reprimanded. Honestly, if this is Caelans chiding tone I don’t know what to think. It’s so soft. As if he understands but he is firm. “Ach. Yes, Caelan.” His beautiful brown eyes look at me. “Sorry mum. I was just having fun. Didn’t mean to make you afraid.”

I sigh. “I get it. It’s not always fun having just your mum around as a friend. I can’t send you to school but I’ve tried my best to teach you–I’m sorry–

“Ach, no no no.” Caelan interrupts. “Ye are fine, lass.” He looks at Jacob, who is staring at me mouth agape. 

“Mum! NO. That’s not what I meant. 

Caelan is fun and I love you. Helping the farm. Like Da did. You’re enough mum.” 

 

I give him a sweet smile. That’s my boy. “Thank you, Jacob.” I look at Caelan who is watching our exchange like it is the most important thing to him right now. “Is there more?” I take a bite of my stew soaked bread.

He archs a brow at me before smirking. “Ach, is more. I will help.”

“Pardon?” I choke, chin aimed down at my bowl, I begin coughing, patting my chest. Jacobs eyes widen with fear. 

Caelan jumps out of his chair and rushes me. His hand splays over my neck and his other over my ribs, just under my breasts. 

Using the palm of his hand, he does several abdominal thrusts and with my neck chin aimed up and my neck in his palm, I spit out the piece of bread. Caelan rubs my neck in a soothing manner. His other hand splays over my belly and just beneath my ribs. “Ach, breathe with me, lass. Breathe.” His face is so close to mine. I can feel his heart beating at my back. Heavens help me, his eyes are like a pit I can fall into. 

“Thank you, sir.” I murmur, my voice vibrating into his gentle hold. That same dark look passes over his features that he wore when he saw my bottom half through my skirt. 

“Is my mum alright?” Jacob’s words jerk me out of my trance. I would have sat up but for Caedan’s hand still wrapped around my throat. His grip tightens momentarily when I swallow before letting me go. 

“Ach, just a bit o’ surprise laddie, ye ken?” He guides me back to sitting in my chair, since he’d practically pulled me out of it, before he too sits down. “Noo, as ay was sayin’. Ay will’elp.” He takes a bite of stew with some bread and the look of utter bliss on his features causes a blush to form on my cheeks. Imagine if I’d actually put effort into this meal. A case of gooseflesh runs up and down my skin imagining such an expression. I nibble on my lower lip and take a smaller bite of my own food this time so as not to choke if he were to surprise me again. 

“Why?” I ask between bites. 

“Weel, ay saw yer fence was in need o’tendin an’ figured ay’d be able t‘elp. Figure ay can see wot else is need o’tendin.” His eyes meet mine with a dark delicious gleam. I look at my bowl, my cheeks hot and flushed. “Ye ken ay can ‘elp with this laddies schoolin’.” I turn back to him with arched brows. “Ay ‘elp teach the orclings in the mountain when others arenae available. Ach, also, my pa Wuidnae be ‘appy wit th’likes o’ me if ay didnae ‘elp. Ye ken lass?” 

I feel like two different conversations are occurring, but nevertheless I reply, “Sure, I guess. Since you’re already teaching him basics in fighting, maybe you teaching him other subjects will help too. But–” I nibble on my lower lip again. “I don’t have any money to pay you.” 

He hums a toonless sound as he finishes off his meal. “Ay ken we can come ta a bargain pritty lass.” He looks at my son who is eyeing him like the devil instead of the god he thought of him earlier. He looks back at me. “Room an’ board Wuidnae be disagreeable. Mayhap the evenin’ meal. See to my comfort. Th’like.” 

“I can’t have you starving when you’re doing so much. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner most days. So you can share them with us when we have them. Some days though, if I’m cooking a big meal, I won’t make lunch. Just fruit from the nearby orchard.”

He shrugs. “Isnae a problem, lass. Ay’ll ‘ave what’er ye make.”

I nod, shrugging also, “If that’s alright with you. Then we have a deal.” I hold out my hand and his smile is beautiful if alarming in its wickedness. His hand engulfs mine and we shake on it. His hand is so freaking warm, it’s borderline hot. I tug on my hand when I hear the scrape of silverware on a bowl. Jacob is slurping down his stew. 

“May I have another mum?” 

“Sure.” I tug on my hand once more because Caelan has yet to let go. I chuckle. “Caelan. May I have my hand back?”

“Naw ye may no’.” He looks at my son again. “Laddie?” He arches a brow. 

Jacob sighs in the only way a child on the cusp of puberty is able to do, “You’re right, I am old enough to get my own.” He gets up, takes my ladle and serves himself a second helping. “Thanks for dinner mum.”

 

Caelan holds my hand the rest of the dinner, directing Jacob to get things he would normally ask me for. At first he is annoyed and resentful. But when he grabs himself a glass of cool water and then hands me one too; I was surprised and thanked him. I think he was also surprised but pleased. It was sweet. 

I finish my own dinner one handed. Finding out long after that Caelan had finished well before the both of us. 

“Did you breathe?” I laugh as I head to my room where my hope chest, passed down from my mothers’ mother, sits at the foot of my bed.

“Ach?” The voice asks directly behind me. 

I nearly scream but bite my lip in time to cut it off. Turning around he’s leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing?” I hiss whisper. Jacob is in the room in the attic but that doesn't mean he is deaf. 

He gives that smirk. The sexy one. The one that makes butterflies turn into thunderstorms. The one where his pointy teeth bite into his lower lip. The one–fuck me. What is he doing? Caelan reaches forward and my heart thunders in my chest. His hand grasps the blanket I was clutching to my chest and places it on my bed. 

No. Not places. He unfolds it and lays it on my bed. What?

“Ye willnae need t’give me all that. T’is is fine.” And he proceeds to plop his tall frame onto my bed. I blink at him. Just blink. Unable to summon the response in that moment. The Orc sits up, reaches for my waist and pulls me onto the bed beside him. Suddenly a rush of heat fills my cheeks. 

“Wh-what is going on?” My breaths are heavy almost panicked. 

He raises one hand and palms my cheek, a thumb caressing my cheekbone, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Donna be frighten’d lass. Ay willnae harm ye.” 

“But why are you in my bed?”

“Ye ken ye agreed ta mai terms. Ay said, ‘Room an’ board wuidnae be disagreeable. Mayhap the evenin’ meal. See to my comfort. An th’like.’ An’ *ye agreed*. Ach?” He arcs both brows at me.

“I-Yes, I did but–”

“Ach?”

“YES!” I snap with a gnash of my teeth.

Chapter 3: There Are Rules

Summary:

Caelan has some rules for his hostess.

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

His head tilts, smirk gone. “There are rules ye will adhere to, lass.” I roll my eyes. “That is tew.” He holds up two fingers with the hand not on my face. 

“Two what?”

“Defiance.” When I moue in distaste, he adds, “Since agreein’ ye’ve defied twice. Ay shoid add since ay met ye. But! Am a kind an’ gen’rous master, ach?” 

“Oh you are out of your mind! I knew you couldn’t be perfect. You look amazing but you’re off your rocker!” I laugh right in his face. Full laughter at the absurdity of this situation. An orc, informing me, a grown woman that I am being defiant for snapping, rolling my eyes?? Oh what a laugh. When my laughter dwindles, sides hurting and tears at the edges, I finally look at him. And my laughter absolutely stops. 

If a look could get darker, his does. “Six.” He states. 

I sputter. “SIX?!” I grouse. “My laughter would make it three unless you’re pettily counting minutes.” 

His hand on my cheek drops to my neck. “Wuidnae it be fair ta count seconds then, lass?” I swallow, my heartbeat thundering in my ears even though his hold on me is gentle but firm. It’s not from fear though. The thunderstorm in my belly is causing heat to drop lower in my body than it rightly should. He leans in and whispers. “Ach, but am lenient master ye ken?” And he shifts his hold to both sides of my waist, his large hands almost able to span the distance completely. He lifts me once again, effortlessly to my astonishment and stands me before him. “Noo, lassie, ye will lay ‘ere an accept yer punishment,” his hand gently pats his lap, “o’ a’ll sleep in th’barn.”

The barn. He’s going to stay in the barn. This is ridiculous. Absolutely the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. James never laid a hand on me. And yet, this orc. This–this male is telling me–

“Ye forget, lassie, am no’ human.” He repeats the words he said earlier this morning, as he takes a deep breath. He hums. “Ach, such a pritty scent.” He smirks. 

Fuck you. My eyes glare. I bend myself over his lap. 

“Over the skirt.” I grit, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Why did I do this? Why in the gods given earth am I laying over his lap. I–A whoosh of air cuts off my inner monologue as the coolness of the room skims over my bare thighs and backside. I squeak. “CAELAN.” 

A soft whap makes my bottom sting. “Sir. An’ t’at is seven, sweet lass.” I nearly shout at him but bite my lip instead. He hums in delight rubbing my rump with his hot large hands. “Ye can learn.” Is he trying to rile me? He chuckles as if he can feel my anger rising to the surface. “Noo, a’ll tell ye ‘he rules, lassie, wit’ each smack. Ye’ll count aloud. Ye ken mo leannan?” Moe lanan? When I don’t answer in a timely fashion, he switches hands keeping me on his lap, the other guides my face to look up at his. My mortification at the situation I let myself in multiplies tenfold. “Ach, lass?” I swallow, nodding. Lass is better. Lass is safer.

We lock eyes for a moment, as if he’s trying to see if I’m lying. Honestly? If he doesn’t get on with it I’ll lose my nerve. “Please.” 

He nods, his thumb gently rubs my lips, prompting me to lick them. A soft groan spills from his own. He lets go a moment after after, switching back with that hand on my back and his other caressing my bottom. 

“Ach, mo chridhe, firs’ rule;” He swats my bottom. I clasp my hands around my mouth to stifle my shout of pain. “Am in charge. Count.”

“One.” It’s muffled behind my hands. He growls and removes my hands. “No, no I can’t. He’ll hear me.” I plead. Sighing, Caelan almost seems to stand and try to remove me. “NO!” I almost shout and he stops. “Please, I’ll do better.” 

He soothes me by petting my spine. “A’ll co’er yer mouth.” He takes the hand that tilted me chin, removes my hands to his clothed thighs and then covers my mouth. “When ay move mai han’, ye’ll count ach?” I nod. His hand covers the entirety of my lower mouth. My airways are practically being blocked off. Another smack, I scream behind his hand. 

“Secon’ rule; bein’ naugh’y doesnae get rewarded.” He rubs my rump to soothe the sting, removing his hand from my mouth. 

“Two.” I murmur softly, the word quivering, slipping from me in a whimper. 

As he covers my mouth he smacks my bottom again. I bite him. Not in retaliation but in a knee jerk reaction. He grunts and something thumps my belly. My eyes widen. OH. “Thir’ rule;” He moves his hand, and I squeak a ‘three’ while I suck in air. “When in this room, ye breathe when ay say ye can.” I–And he covers my mouth again, my nose. “Fourth rule.” Probably his harshest yet and I squeal beneath his hand. “Yer mine.” Before I can even think what is he planning to do, a thick hot finger is slicks between my wet thighs, gathering up my essence. From his groan, and the slurping sound I assume he is licking my nectar from his finger. 

I whimper. The world darkening around me. He never removed his hand on the fourth rule. Yer mine. A fresh gush of arousal slips from me and he takes a deep breath. The thump against my belly makes me moan in turn. He gathers more slick, the edges of my vision blurring, and stuff a singular digit within me. My moan is louder. Needier. I’m gonna pass out. 

He removes his hand. As I take a deep breath, my lungs filling with much needed air. Caelan removes his finger from within me and I whine a wordless protest. Another loud slurp. He hums. “Taste so sweet.” He growls. Low in his throat. “More.” I shiver. He covers my mouth. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Tears fall with each slap of flesh on flesh. The sting more than anything I've ever felt in my life. And with each smack, a fresh gush of need. 

He groans and growls as he gathers and sucks the sweetness from his fingers before delving within once more. My mouth still covered. He inserts a second finger, filling me so full. Nothings been inside me in the past five years except my own fingers. And mine are much smaller than his. He thrusts them in. Out. In. Taking and taking. I feel myself building. 

Fast. SO fucking fast. But the edges of my vision start to darken again. I’m so light headed. I’m having to chase the feeling. 

“D’ye want to come, mo chridhe?” His voice is so low and growly. Like the rumbling of thunder across my skin. I nod my head. So close. Yet so far. “Yer las’ rule. Ye come, when ay say ye come.” I nod frantically. Yes. whatever he wants. Whenever. But please. Please please give this to me. He’s faster. In. Out. In. “More.” I don’t know what he wants. I’m sobbing. So close to passing out. 

“Caelan.” I mouth. “Please!” I’m muffled. It’s the last of whatever breathe I have in me. He slams a third finger inside the same time he removes his hand from my mouth. My body, quivers, and quakes. Squeezing and clenching around the fingers stuffed so deeply inside me. I suck in air, unable to scream. Unable to do anything but breathe and feel.

Chapter 4: Morning After

Summary:

It's morning and the orc is still here.

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

When I come to, the birds are chirping outside, the sun is– Oh my god the SUN! I toss the blankets off of me and find I'm not wearing a stitch of clothing. I snatch my blanket back up and wrap myself in it from head to toe, looking like an old beggar woman. How dare he?! I bristle. 

Gives me the best orgasm of my life. Swats my ass. and strips me after I pass out?! oh the nerve of that orc. I'm going to--

He steps into the room. "YOU!" I hiss. He arcs a brow at me in challenge. I can almost hear his 'Ach, wee lass?' "You can ach wee lass somewhere else!" He smirks because he hadn't in fact said anything. "How dare you?!" 

He leans against my doorjamb as I practically screech at him. "Dare ay? Praytell wee sweet lassie wot did ay do?"

My cheeks flush. "You-YOU-- 

"Ach. Ay. Ay. Ay," He takes a step forward with each I. "Ay 'm in charge sweet lass." He's close, we're practically standing chest to belly. his hand comes up to collar me. He squeezes so gently but the memory from last night is so fresh I can't help my body's response. Mine is the same as his. The offending but warm pole of flesh jerks in it's trouser confines. "Yer mine, wee lass." He yanks me against him. My breaths filled with the scent of his body. My mouth waters. My thighs clench. Caelan growls and rips the blanket from around me. "Ye can be clothed when ay say so. Ye ken mo chridhe?" 

I shake my head, my nose rubbing against his hard middle. "Jaco--

"Am no' human. Ay smell him 'fore he can see." I nod. He hums stepping back to take his fill looking at my body. "So pritty, plump. mine." It's a growl. Of need. Of triumph. Of desire. His. 

Caelan lifts me onto the bed, his hand never leaving my throat, both hands press my shoulders to the bed before journeying down to my hands and placing them flat next to my thighs. "Ye stay. Donnae move." I nod. He lets me go. I grip my bed sheets as he trails his claw tipped hands against my thighs. Down to my knees, I watch drop to his own, his lips caressing me with gentle kisses. He lifts each foot, kissing the pads of my feet before placing them both over his shoulders and settling between my thighs. His shoulders make my thighs spread wide because of the breadth of them. "Ach, like this, sweet lass; mo chridhe." He growls. "So pritty. So open an' swollen an' wet." The word 'wet' is said on a groan as he laps the slickness from my thighs. 

He doesn't just lick me. He flicks me with it. Right on my pleasure center. He nips me with his sharp dangerous teeth. Causing me to squeak, clench my fists in the bedding and dig my heels in to his back. My head thrashes back and forth back and forth as he devours me. Lave, flick, nip. Lave, flick, nip. Over and over. but he doesn't let me complete. He doesn't let me finish. 

I'm begging. Pleading. Demanding. Near shouting. Please. Please. Please! I need. I want. I have to. Anything you want. I’ll do it. But please.

And then he is standing over me, his hand covers the lower half of my face. I cannot breathe. Thick fingers writhing within me, stretching, caressing the bundle of nerves on the front of my wall. I’m close. I can feel it. Oh god. 

“Mum?” My heartrate speeds up. OH god. OH god. NO!

But before I can make a move to get up, to try to call back to remove Caelans hands, he delves a third finger inside and I keen beneath his hand. Muffled. But probably way too loud. 

“Ach, am in ‘ere laddie. Tryin’ wake her.”

Jacob snorts. “If she’s not awake by now, she is taking a day off. Let her sleep. I’m going to the barn to clean the stalls.”

Caelan makes a come hither motion with his fingers and my heels dig into the mattress. Thighs stretched wide. Brain fuzzy. “Ach, A’ll see ye in a minute laddie. Will try one more time.” His eyes meet mine and they are sparking with promise, his hand falling to his trousers. My eyes widen, even as I distantly hear the front door close. His trousers fall and there, in all it’s brilliant glory is the only piece of scarred flesh on his body. His prick juts forward, weight of it dipping as if it wishes to kiss my weeping slit. The one he’s removed his fingers from. 

I try to tell him to stop. That we can’t. My son will hear. It’s way too fucking big! The beautiful brute smirks down at me, as if he is able to decipher my muffled cries. He licks his three fingers clean before placing the hand on the back of my thigh just before it connects to my knee. He pushes it forward nearly bending me in half, my slit is kissing the one on his prick. Or would that mean his is kissing mine since there’s no way I’m in control of this situation. 

The head of his shaft dips inside me, flaring me open for but a moment before he retreats. As much as my body complained in that moment for how much of a stretch even just the head of him gave me, I think it complains more with his removal. I whimper and he chuckles before lowering his face closer to mine, breath on my throat and collarbone. “Ach, yer beau’iful mo chridhe. Spread like a feast.” My heat clenches with need. “Wet, warm,” His long sinuous black tongue flicks against a nipple. Puckering it. “Delicious.” A fresh gush of my want splatters the head of his shaft.

With a growl, he thrusts forward and my body clenches up, but instead of him thrusting within, he glides against my folds. The head of his prick butting my clit before passing it. bent as I am, when I look down, I can see it. All of it. OH gods. 

He pulls back and it practically licks up my slickened heat before slamming forward. The scars on his cock grind against my bud. I arch my back and whine with pleasure. His mouth devours all of my sounds. His tongue wraps around mine when it’s not battling for dominance. 

When we pull apart for breath, I moan his name and he growls “Mine.” But before I can think on it. Before I can analyze the feeling, his thrusts become harried, not so deliberate. Fast. Needy. It bumps against my clit again and again and again. I am on a precipice. The tip of the knife, teetering. But I can’t fall. I start to panic. Why can’t I fall?

Caelan pulls away, “Ach, mo chridhe. Ye’r perfect. Beau’iful. Cannae wait t’fill ye with my seed. Stretch ye with my prick. Hear ye keening as your womb suckles me.” A hand is placed over my mouth. Covering my nose. “Come for me mo chridhe. Show me how slick ye can get.” He bends his had forward to lick and roll my nipple between his sharp teeth. 

I never knew this was what I would need. For him to control all of this. All of me. I’m unable to move. To do what I want. What I think I need. He knows my needs. What I want. He’ll give it to me as he deems me worthy. Whether it’s pleasure, pain, or air. The edges of my vision darken. So lightheaded. I feel the pleasure as if I’m on another plane of existence. The gods help me. I’m so close. I whimper beneath his hand. Please. My eyes beg him. I’m there. 

He frees my nipple with a pop. The air from his breath causes it to sting. Heightening everything I’m feeling. I’m taut like a bow string. Ready. “Now, mo chridhe.” He removes his palm from my mouth and although I’m able to breathe instead, I shatter. A million tiny pieces. So small, I hope he can find them all. 

In the next second, I’m splattered with wet warmth. Caelan groans and growls. Soft harsh curses spill from his lips alongside praise and, if I didn’t know better, words of endearments. But this is a meaningless tryst to him I’m sure. It might blow my mind but I bet he does this to all the much prettier women he comes across. Devours them whole and leaves them a lump of satisfaction on the side of the road that is his life. Like he will do with me. 

Caelan pulls away just then, his eyes narrowed as I cool beneath him. “Ach, this is why ye cannae be left t’ yer thoughts.” He lets my limbs fall back onto the bed before walking bare assed to the front rooms. I hear water sloshing and then he’s back with a wet cloth. He wipes me with it. It’s warm. Warmer because his own body is so deliciously warm too. He caresses me as he cleans me. Groping and kneading my breasts, causing hitches in my breath before he moves on to other parts of my body.

He ends with the cloth at my center. All that potent cream sitting on that cloth. Poised over me. His black eyes meet mine. 

“What are you doing?” I gasp, “You should rinse the cloth before you–OH!” I squeak as he presses the cloth into me. “Caelan!” His name is breathy, aroused as he stuffs the cloth inside me. When all but a corner is within, he sits me up. I can feel an uncomfortable pressure within me. It makes me blush. 

But then Caelan pulls me off the bed and I drop to my knees his heft bobbing half hard before me. “Lick me. Clean ma prick with that beaut’ful mouth ach?” My center clenches around the cloth and I moan. Fuck it almost feels like his fingers are stuffed inside me. I lick him. Clean him. Suckle his prick and swallow it whole. It hardens within my mouth. And he growls. It skitters down my spine and I can feel myself producing slick heat but the cloth is keeping it within. Caelan curses. “Yer son is coming.” My eyes widen but his clawed hands in my hair prevent me from pulling away. “Ah, ah.” He admonished me. “Am in charge.” He grits and groans as I swallow around the head of him. A hiss slithers from between his clenched teeth before he pulls back. “Ach ay ken ay’ll come quick. T’will make a mess o’ye, mo chridhe. An’ ye’ll swallow it all Ach?” With watering eyes I nod. Yes. Fuck. His taste is everything I’ve ever wanted. Ever needed. And he thinks I will spill it? No. I must. I need to swallow it. All of it. 

And it is a right mess. It’s fast. It’s rough. I gag and choke as he uses me. Takes my air. Takes my tears. The saliva that splashes from my mouth each thrust within. He loves it. All of it. Takes it from me. And I drown in the bliss of his handling.

“So pritty mo chridhe.” He grips my hair tightly as his balls tighten, pulling upwards towards his prick and then it’s flooding my mouth with his spend. “All of it.” He growls almost threatening. I whimper with each swallow. Near choking as it continues. He’s going to kill me. Not with him choking me. No. He’ll drown me in his spend. In the glorious honey and milk and decadent sweetness that is his spend. 

And then it is but the barest amount. I start to pull away but he growls. “All. Suckle. Pull it from me. E’ry drop.” And when nothing comes forth, he pulls himself from my lips with a pop. Placing himself within his trousers before tying them back up. He lifts me kissing me, drugged with arousal for him. Wanting to come. Feeling my core clench around the cloth and I whimper again. Caelan smirks as he lays me down in my bed. He wraps me in my blanket so tightly I’m unable to move. 

“Now, mo chridhe. Donnae move. Ay’ll be back an’ make sure ye listened. Leave the cloth.” I glare at him. 

“You can’t tell—

“In this ay can.” He leans over me and takes a deep breathe. “Ach, ye smell so much be’er. So sweet. Delicious.” He humms with satisfaction before nipping the crook of my neck. I arch my spine at the teasing sting. 

“Fuck.” I whine and he chuckles.

“Later. Now sleep.” I want to defy him. I want to wiggle out of this blanket. I want to snap at him. But the feeling of sexual exhaustion overcomes me and I’m lights out before he even leaves the room. What kind of spell has he put me under? 

Wet and wicked dreams fill my sleeping mind. All of them starring myself and Caelan. And all of them are with him filling me. Everywhere. I wake with a start.

Chapter 5: Before He Leaves

Summary:

Caelan has left? Or has he?

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

Jacob is jerking my shoulder. I have a moment of panic before I realize I’m clothed. When that could have happened I don’t know. “Jacob! What time is it?” 

“Caelan made dinner. Said you weren’t feelin’ well. To let you sleep ‘til supper. Do you feel better ma?”

I stand, stretching. Muscles ache where I’d been bent near in half but otherwise I feel amazing. “Yeah, actually, I feel wonderful. I’m sorry I worried you.” I kiss his cheek and take a step, realizing the cloth was gone. But nothing was leaking. I’ll have to take a look at that later. I think I still have that mirror my husband bought me in our early years of marriage. Jacob gives me a look before wiping his cheek on his sleeve. I roll my eyes. “What’s for dinner?” I call into the kitchen. But when I get there Caelan is gone. I stop mid step. “Where–where’s Caelan?”

 

“He left.” Jacob proclaims with a shrug as he sits in his usual seat. His meal served. My meal served.

“Ah. I thought he was staying?” 

Another shrug. “He said he had things to do.” He says this around a mouthful of biscuit from yesterday, gently warmed and buttered. 

“Uh-huh.” I murmur and start to eat. 

“Lef’at fer yew.” His gob is so stuffed he can’t pronounce anything correctly. 

“Chew. Swallow. Then speak.” He nods and continues chewing, handing me a letter. 

In beautiful scrawl wrote,

I have not left you mo chridhe. Merely parted for the next few days. I will return at weeks end. I have left reading material for Jacob. I expect him to make headway on his histories. Paper for letter writing. Quill and ink. He will be quizzed when I return. -Caelan

There’s another note in the envelope but it’s clearly written ALONE. So I fold his first letter back inside. 

“He gave you work to do. He’ll quiz you when he gets back.” Jacob groans. “And since he’ll be gone several days we can do some much needed mucking and harvesting. I hope he gets back in time to help with repairs. The chicken coop needs tending. Lady fox has been digging trying to get in. Then there’s the barn. We’ll be keeping Gus inside starting tomorrow. So before breakfast tomorrow, I need you to move his trough inside the barn.” Jacob nods. 

In no time, we are both done with dinner. Which was just yesterday's meal reheated. “Good night hun.” 

“Night mum.” Jacob climbs the ladder.

Entering my room, a strangled scream leaves me. “I’m fine!” I shout. “Stubbed my toe.” Jacob calls an ‘okay’ back. “What are you doing?!” I hiss whisper. 

Caelan looks at me with an arched brow, he’s wearing glasses, laying in my bed, shirtless, reading a book. “Reading.” 

“But–You–Your note.”

He nods in understanding and pats the left over sliver of bed next to him. How did we sleep last night? Since I don’t move, he leans forward to grab my wrist and pulls me to sit. He kisses my temple and caresses my thigh. “Mmmm.” He hums breathing in my scent. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. “Ay came back. Just for tonight.” To screw my brains out? “Ay’ll be gone ‘fore the morn. But!” He undresses me, pulls me beneath the covers and my body flush against his in one fell swoop, I’m left in a stunned stupor. Unable to comprehend how. “Ay wished ye t’fall asleep in my arms.” And he lays my head on his thick muscled arm as if it were a pillow before, snuggling closer to me. So close it feels like our bodies are fused together. He takes that same hand that pulled me close to pick his book back up, puts it in the hand of the arm I am laying on, and he continues to read. His free hand back on my blanketed hip.

I can’t read his book because it’s not in english. And to be fair, even if it were in english I can barely read as it is. I can read my cook books because Jo taught me what they meant and the basics. But I didn’t finish schooling. I had a great family, a wonderful family actually. An encouraging father, a wonderful mother. Many many siblings. But we were poor and school meant money.

His hands are huge. With his pointer finger and thumb holding either end of the book open as he reads. Occasionally using his other hand to flip to the next page. But I’m not sure if this book is small or his hands are that large. 

I know because of the way they plunged into me. Stretching me. Fuck. I squeeze my thighs together at the thought alone. Feeling my body flush.

Caelan hums his hand twitching. I hold my breath. Can he smell it? No. His head is all the way up there and there’s a blanket over me. I’m go– “What a delicious scent mo chridhe.” He whispers in my ear, his hand slipping beneath the covers and skating over my naked flesh. Starting at my shoulder and slowly gliding down. He takes a deep breath against my throat and groans. “Ay wasnae ta touch ye t’night.” He nips me just as he reaches my hip. “But yer sweet scent.” He groans again, his hands grip biting into my skin both painful and delicious. He pulls my hips into his. His clothed cock nestled between my derriere.

 

He takes my hip and grinds my bottom against him. “Fuck.” He growls into the crook of my neck. His hot breath making gooseflesh spread across my skin. “Ay cannae deny this. Deny ye.”

He puts his book down and fists my hair with the arm underneath my head. I whimper. His other hand unties his trousers and allows his prick to spring forward. It slaps me in the rear, a generous amount of his precome slicks my skin as he guides it between my thighs. As he thrusts his hips, he notches against the entrance to my heat before continuing forward and rubbing against my bud of pleasure. 

Before I can moan, mouth open for the better ability to breathe, Caelan lets go of my hair and shoves two fingers into my mouth. It doesn’t completely cut off my moan but it adds a barrier between my voice and the rest of my home.

“Mph.” Caelan groans into my throat. His hips retreating only to slam forward. I suck in air around his fingers and whimper as he repeats the motion. Again and again. Retreat, thrust. Retreat, thrust. Then, he’ll stop, the head of his prick seated at my slickened opening. It’ll jerk as if demanding entrance. As if begging for it. Pleading. As it weeps for it. 

I clamp my teeth around his fingers. He growls, deep resonating, as he jerks his hips forward just a tad. Enough to snuggly fit the head of him, inside. I moan. My tongue flicking his fingers. Fuck. 

He pulls his hips back and I whine through my nose. No. My nethers clench as if to try to keep what little he’s given me inside. But it’s not enough. He continues his actions of before. Covering his prick in my wetness as he pumps between my thighs and bumps that bud over and over. 

“Ach, mo chridhe. So wet for me. So beau’iful.” He nips my shoulder. “Wou’d ye like my cream mo chridhe? My precious seed?” I moan. Fuck I shouldn’t want that. I’m a lonely woman on a farm in the middle of nowhere. But I’m older. My brain interjects. The likelihood of a child is improbable. Why shouldn’t I? Indulge. “Fill ye. Soften ye.” I nod and he growls again. Much deeper. Right against my throat. He clamps his mouth on my shoulder. Not breaking the skin, but not letting go either. 

He notches himself once more. I whimper at the slight invasion. He flicks my bud, rubbing in circles against it. I bite down again on his fingers as I groan. He does so in turn. Thrusting forward, albeit jerkily as if he stops himself midway. A little more of his prick fills me. Just a little more. I whimper. As it’s just enough to excite the nerve endings at my opening. Short jerky thrusts, more grinding and growling than thrusting, keep those nerves awake and alive. 

“Come fer me mo chridhe. Wet my prick wit’ yer excitement. As ay wet ye wit mine.” He latches back onto the crook of my shoulder and my neck, the prick of his teeth, the grinding of his hips, the rough way he’s attacking my bud and his fingers in my mouth, all come together. Overwhelming me. Our shouts are muffled behind skin. 

I feel the spray of him within me. Coating me. Hot, thick warmth. I moan and my body clenches around the little he’s allowed me. I shudder and he kisses my neck. My shoulder. My back. Anywhere he can. “So beau’iful. So wet an willin’. Pritty mo chridhe. Pritty mine.” He lavs his tongue against the slight sting of where he’d bitten me. His lower half jerks a final time within me. I’m sure I’m spilling. His prick not stoppering it well enough. He removes his fingers from my mouth, only to replace them with another hand. Covered in our mutual spend leaking from me. “Good mo chridhe. Such a good girl.” 

I moan around his fingers. Licking them clean before he pulls them from my lips with a pop. “Caelan–

“Ach, no words. Cuddle. We sleep, ach?” He pulls me in close and the last thought I can think about before falling asleep, is that he never removed his prick from inside.

 

Morning comes all too soon. I am alone in bed again. Dressed wearing fresh and clean pantalettes. Seems he’d laundered my clothes yesterday. But on the other pillow is the note he’d left me. I pull out the ‘alone’ paper. 

You will touch yourself every eve after supper. But you will not finish. Your nectar is mine. Your completion is mine. I will know mo chridhe.

Chapter 6: He's Back

Summary:

Nearly a week passes before Caelan comes back.

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

And how the heck would he even know? I grumble to myself for the millionth time. It’s day three without him and honestly, with the corn harvest, apples and other vegetables I haven’t finished harvesting from the garden, I am much too exhausted to even think about touching myself.
Every morning, I rise before the sun, we take care of the animals and all the issues that arise from them. And when the sun is finally shining, we head out to the field. We’ve done half the cornfield. Considering Ginny’s brother George passed this spring, we can’t have her pulling the cart by herself while we harvest. So trips take much longer using harvest baskets. Depending on who seems most tired that evening from the work, that one makes lunch for the two of us. Then, just after the sun sets, we finish the day's haul and the one who made lunch gets to have a bath while the other makes dinner. Suffice to say, I’m usually the one making dinner.
In all honesty, I might just send Jacob tomorrow with Ginny and the cart to my brothers neighboring farm. Neighboring being a 6 hour cart ride. We are really close to the mountain, and how we got to keep our land when the treaty was signed is a miracle. Thus, our neighbors are pretty far away. We sell half our corn harvest, that includes stalks and cobs, to my brother. He uses most of it for feed and pig manure for his fields. But he gives us either gold and a sow, or one sow and one pickled in brine.
The sow is for Gus our somehow still randy pig. In spring, we send the sow back home if my brother asks with weened piglets or, we keep her till fall. Sending any piglets back to him.
Sighing, as I make some meat cooked in butter from the cellar, I continue rationalizing sending my boy. I’m pretty sure I can send him tomorrow at noon. He’ll arrive for dinner and my brother will keep him for a few days thinking my harvest is done. It’ll give me plenty of time to finish the harvest by myself and give my son a much needed rest.
I should prepare the living area in case my brother sends someone for winter help. Not that we need anything really. And I usually send any of his “prospective” suitors home the same day. But it depends on how late it is or if he’ll just send our youngest sibling. Who’s maybe 5 years older than Jacob. I nod. Okay, it’s decided.

Day four arrives but my son insists on staying until the following day. He doesn’t want me doing all the nearly other half of the field when we can finish it this day. We do, but it’s well into the night and we both fall into our beds exhausted.
Day 5, we collect two barrels of apples and load that into the wagon with the rest of my brothers half of the harvest. His wife will be ecstatic over the apples. I send the boy off at midday. He knows the way. We used to do it all the time together when Jo was alive. But it still clutches my heart that he’ll be going alone.
I head to my garden, figuring with the ground getting colder with every passing day it’d be best if I just get it out of the way.
After a time, I start smelling food. Like delicious amazingness. But how? My head jerks up to the house and I see the candles have been lit, the fire has been fed. I jerk up, snatching my basket and rush inside.
There, wearing my apron, is the most attractive orc I will ever see. “Ach,” He murmurs. “Jus’ in time, mo chridhe.” He puts some soft white fluffed potatoes in my favorite bowl, topped with sausage links he’d grilled over the fire, and eggs. Topped with a meat gravy.
“You’re back.” I say belatedly. And a beautiful smile graces his kissable lips. My cheeks flush at the thought.
“Ach, am back.” He murmurs, pulling me in for a sweet indulgent kiss. When we break apart, I realize he moved me to my chair. Sitting me in front of my bowl of food, he sits in the seat he’d last occupied and we eat. It’s divine.
After we finish eating, I smile at him and open my mouth to thank him when our eyes meet. And his face isn’t so pleasant and sweet like it was during the meal. “What’s wrong?”
“Ay didnae think ay had t’discipline ye. But it seems mo chridhe doesnae take my words seriously.” At my deep frown he adds, “Ye didnea touch yerself. Yer room was nigh clear o’yer pritty cunts scent. Ay’ll remedy this. Up.” He growls darkly. I stand quickly and follow him to our room.

I’m trembling. Not from fear. Anticipation. It runs through my veins like a drug. I don’t move. I stand in the middle of our–my room. Why do I keep saying our? Caelan circles me once more. Stalking me. Assessing me. Devouring me with his eyes.
“Am a joke to ye, mo chridhe?” He growls angrily into my ear.
I gasp in outrage but before I can twirl around and stamp my foot to snap at him, his hands grip my hips in a bruising hold, keeping me in place. I whimper as he presses his chest to my back. “No.” I bristle. “You’re not a joke to me.”
“Then why mo chridhe? Why disobey? Am master of this room. Of yer body. E’ry delicious piece o’yer body.” He nips my shoulder. “Bend o’er. Hands behind yer back.” When I hesitate a menacing growl rumbles from his chest into me, causing the hairs on my skin to raise.
I bend over the bed. My breaths coming in quick and sharp. I bend my arms at the elbows and clasp my hands behind my back.
He doesn’t approach me. Instead, I hear his boots on the wood flooring. Klunk-tap. Klunk-tap. A soft rustling sound as if he’s digging through a bag. And then the klunk-tap of his boots on the wood comes back to me. In front of me on the bed, he starts placing odd items. A paddle. Long strip of black cloth. A few strips of silk cloth sewed to have adjustable loops. Several stones of varying sizes. Smaller stones with an egg shape that tapers to a flat surface. The egg shapes are covered in leather. Finally he places one small and one large metal thing the same shape as the small stones but instead of a flat surface, they’re embedded with a golden gem. They aren’t covered in leather.
“Wi’llny be using all o’these t’night. But wi’ll be using them. Understand mo chridhe?” I nod and his hand swats my rump. “Words mo leannan.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Gud. Noo mo chridhe, a’ll strip ye o’yer clothing. So ay might touch all that is mine.” My clothing is indeed stripped from me. I’m not allowed to help. I got a swat again for trying. When I’m completely naked he rumbles his approval as he rubs his hands all over my naked flesh. Fondling me everywhere but no where that I really want. My arousal has been building since the moment I saw him in the kitchen. And yet, he still hasn’t touched me. “Ye’ll tell me the rules, ach mo chridhe?”
The rules? I don’t know if I remember the rules!
“An’ if ye’ve forgotten them, a’ll punish yer pritty bottum more.” Fuck this is going to be one long night. “Star’.”
“Rule one, you’re in charge.” He smacks my bottom and I yelp. “I thought you were punishing me if I forget!” I hiss and he smacks my other cheek. I shout again in outrage. But he pushes me back down on the bed with a hand between my shoulder blades.
“Ay said a’ll punish ye more. Remember lass, yer bein’ punished fer no’ listenin’. Continue.”
“Rule two… I–I don’t remember rule two.” I can almost hear him smile. He takes one of the silk cloths with two loops. He puts my hands through the loops, pushing the cloth up to my forearms. Then, he grabs a second, shorter one and puts my hands through that as well adjusting them around my wrists. Finally, he picks up the paddle. My eyes widen and I jerk, trying to get up, but my hands, my arms! “Caelan!” I shout.
His chuckle rumbles like a dessert. If a dessert was sexy and filled me with longing. “A’ll add mo chridhe, from t’day ‘til ferever, ye’ll call me ‘Mo ghaol’. Ye ken, mo chridhe? My ghraidh?” What is he saying? What is he asking of me?
But I nod. “Yes, mo ghaol.” He rumbles his approval, kissing where my spine meets my shoulders.
“Rule tew, yer no’ rewarded fer disobeying.” And with that, he smacks the paddle over my bottom. I shout in surprise. It isn’t really from pain. He doesn’t hit me that hard but it absolutely stings. “Third, ye breath when ay say so.” The slap of the paddle makes my insides quiver and clench with need. “What is the fourth mo chridhe?”
“I am yours.” I whisper. Another wet needy clench.
“Louder. Whose are ye?” SLAP. Clench.
“Cael–
“Mo ghaol.” He growls. SLAP. Clench. I can feel myself starting to dribble.
“I am yours, mo ghaol. Everything. All of me. Yours.” It’s a whimper, a moan, a plea.
With a possessive growl he simultaneously stuffs me with two of his delightfully thick fingers and pulls me up by the silk between my forearms, against his chest so he can latch his deliciously sharp teeth onto where he’d last bitten me. I shatter.

Chapter 7: Let Me Taste

Summary:

It's time for a tasting. And a feeding.

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

We bask in the aftermath, my core clenching rhythmically about his fingers. Begging to milk him. His hard prick thumping in his pants.

“Mo ghaol.” I murmur in a soft whimper as he removes his fingers from inside me. I hear him slurping behind me, licking them clean. It makes my lower half spasm with need.

“Ach, mo chridhe?” He then licks and nuzzles my neck. 

I swallow, “Please, untie me.”

He nips my earlobe. “No.” It’s a growl. “Why?”

My cheeks flush, “I want–

“Ye want?”

“I want to taste you.” There is only silence. He’s even stopped breathing.

And then I’m laying flat on my back at the edge of the bed and he’s making his prick give me pecking kisses. “Ye want this mo ghraidh? Taste me? Lick me? Suckle me deep inside yer perfec’ throat?” His hands wrap around my throat. “Ye will swallow me whole, ach? E’ry time I pull out ye’ll swirl yer pritty tongue around it? Give proper orc kisses? Seek out my precious seed?”

I whimper, my hips twitching. Core clenching. I want to be filled. Completely with him. All of him. All of it. Please. I lick him. Slather him with my saliva in preparation for the taking.

“Ach, wait, I cannae forget. Cannae let ye lie there with yearning, ye ken?” And he pulls away. His hands leave my throat. I moan in despair and he chuckles as he trails a hand down my throat, cupping both breasts and tweaking the nipples a tad harder than I’m used to. I gasp and grit my teeth when he tugs a tad harshly. He immediately lightens it and I’m almost disappointed. 

He abruptly stops touching me completely and continues downward.

How did I get here? Wanting? Needy? Desperate to feel him inside me. Something I haven’t even had yet. It’s been a handful of days. I was never the overly needy one. I wasn’t the one who desperately wanted to have any kind of intercourse. I was okay when we went nights without it. The occasional romp in the barn was just fine.

But this? This isn’t me. Right?

Sharp pleasure pain attacks my breast. I choke on a shout, looking down at Caelan looking up at me, his teeth clamped down on my nipple. He releases me, the blood rushing to the abused flesh and then latches on. Suckling me. His hot tongue swirling around and around. Our eyes staying locked together, before he lets off with a pop. “Ach, there ye are lass. Yer mind wandered again. Mayhap I should punish ye each time?” My eyes widen. I hope not. He hums in contemplation. “La’er mayhap. T’night is about feelin’.” He sits up, his tools sitting in front of him. The long stones covered in leather. “Noo, mo chridhe. Is time to fill yer pritty cunt.”

I jerk away from his hand reaching for my tender flesh. “Wait! You’re–you’re too big!”

He hums and pulls my thighs around his hips, his prick suckling and kissing me there. Eyes wide I feel a flutter within me followed by a splash at the entrance as he jerks his cock. He’s not entering me. Merely stroking himself to completion with me unable to stop him. My cunt weeps around his head. An offering. A sacrifice for his seed. I never knew I was into something like this. A choice taken away. Giving me the most pleasure.

His other hand reaches for the bud of pleasure. Circling it. Lightly grazing it with his sharp claws. I whimper. And he jerks faster. “Ye’ll come for me mo leannan?”

“Yes. Please.” I moan.

He leans forward, his fist never slowing, his thumb offering just the right amount of pressure as he latches onto my other breast. Nipping, suckling, swirling. Just as I’m hitting the threshold, he gives a small jerky thrust, the tingle of pain wars with one of his teeth nipping harshly at my nipple. Our pleasure hits the crescendo. It feels like the moment stills around us before we fall. Fall. fall.

“My bonnie ghraidh.” He murmurs, kissing my breast and pulling the head of him away from my dripping slit. He admires his seed spilling from within me. And when he gathers it in his hands, I expect him to feed it to me, as he’s done every chance since we’ve started this strange relationship. But instead, he gathers it and slathers it on one of the leather wrapped stones. And that’s when I finally realize what it is.

“A cock.”

His eyes flick towards mine and he smirks. Humming his approval, he guides the stone to my entrance. “Ach, is smaller than mine. But no’ too small. Ay must stretch yer slit, ye ken?”

My legs quiver with my pent up emotions and tension. But Caelan takes his time slowly filling me with the phallic stone. First he lets it kiss me. He inserts the head only to pull it out immediately after. Teasing me with it. It enters me, exits and rubs on my nub before starting all over again. Rinse, repeat. And when I’m finally about to curse and demand he do it, suddenly he’s plunging it within.

I keen. My air choking within my throat as my back arches and I lift my hips. Caelan tsks me and places a palm on my lower abdomen. Pressing me back down into the mattress. “Ach, mo leannan, ye stay still.” He growls. “Ay wouldnae like t’ hurt ye.” He leans forward and nips my hip. I clench and moan because of the object within me. He chuckles. “Does that feel goo’ mo chridhe?” He pulls it nearly free and thrusts it back in an inch or two further than last. And then again. And again. Until there’s but an inch or so left out of me.

I’m so full. I whimper as he thrusts it in and out. Bottoming out as best he can. Circling it. I whimper as it hits something deep inside. Clenching strongly. Slit weeping. He moves it away from that position before seeming to experiment with movements of my body. Lifting my knees makes it hit that place again. But laying them flat gives me a moment to breathe.

Caelan hums in approval. “Ach, sweet, will work ye up to my prick. Will feel so snug, so warm ‘round my heft, ay ken.”  He reaches over to the pile of silk and pulls one odd one out of it. It almost resembles pantalettes. Except less fabric. He places my feet through the corresponding holes and pushes it up my calves, my thighs, and over my hips.

A tiny scrap of fabric, maybe leather as it’s not silk, cups the end of the stone and holds it in place of his hand. “Bend yer knees.” He growls so deep, as it reaches me, it feels like a rich pool of need coursing through my blood. I bend my knees and moan as it hits that place within. “Perfect.”

He gets out of the bed and trails his hand back up from my mound, over my belly, cupping a breast until he’s standing at the end of the bed. “Noo, mo chridhe. We will continue, ach?”

I nod. Unable to trust my voice. His grin is feral as he blood pumps to his prick. As if by magic, just staring at my body, well loved by him. Laying here, like a sacrifice fills him with satisfaction and joy.

He has me give him prick kisses. My tongue swirling about the head of him, beneath the foreskin, before tonguing the weeping slit. Coaxing his seed from him little by little. And then he only lets me do it intermittently. As he starts shallow thrusts in my mouth. Opening my jaw around him. Praising me. “Ach, so pritty mo chirdhe. Swallowing me so well.” He presses forward, his hands around my throat, just holding me, Feeling himself dipping into my throat before pulling back out and giving me precious air.

“Ye breathe when ay say ye can.” His words echo in my mind and my thighs clench, grinding the phallic stone inside me. I whimper around him. Slurping and sucking, my drool and the beginning of his spend dribbling out the sides of my mouth. Tears prick the edges of my eyes.

His thrusts echo the clenching of my core. I’m so full. So full. Yet it’s not enough. Something is missing. I need–I need–

He chokes me on him. The edges of my vision darkening as he holds himself flush against me. His bullocks lay heavily against my cheekbones. I can’t move. My hands behind my back, still tied. Practically spit roasted on pricks. A groan, my groan, vibrates into him.

Please.

He reaches forward and pinches my nipples with both of his hands. “Noo mo ghraidh. Breathe. Give me that beau’iful scent.” He pulls out of my throat. My world comes back in vibrant overstimulating color. The pinching sensation of his hands, the writhing of my thighs changing the position of the stone inside me again and again, causes me to scream.

Caelan thrusts back inside after my next breath and spills down my throat. I choke, I swallow, I expire on him. 

Before I can pass out, he pulls free once more. Shooting more seed over my body. It lands on my face, my throat, my chest and belly. He groans and growls. Looking fierce, feral and delighted with the scene he has painted.

 

Before he cleans me up, Caelan gathers his spend splattered all over me and starts to feed it to me. When there is none left to feed, he promptly gets a bowl of warm water that has been sitting by the fire and a cloth. The cloth. The one he’d shoved inside of me last time. My cheeks flush red at the memory and I clench around the stone. I whimper.

Caelan kisses my lips, my nose, cheeks and chin. His hands release my arms from their prison and then start washing me and rubbing the warmth into my skin. I moan in delight as they kneed my flesh. He continues kissing me, nipping my skin as he moves his way down my body. He takes extra care of my breasts, his laving tongue swirling around the puckered peaks. When he arrives at my stomach, I feel a moment of self consciousness.

After the birth of my son, I’d never been able to get rid of my belly. It wasn’t exactly flat when I was younger but it wasn’t what it is now. Just as the thought comes over me to cover it with my hands, he rubs his face into my skin there. I squeak in surprise, my hands jerking on his head by the hair. Pulling him up and off my belly. Our eyes meet over the curve of my breasts. His are dark and aggrieved. As if I were denying him something he felt his right. It tells me, if I don’t let go this instant, I will regret it. I let go and he goes back to rubbing his face there. 

Kissing me and caressing. 

His hands slowly leave from there before going to my hips and the cloth that is holding the stone. He pulls it down. But only halfway on my thighs. I clench around the stone when it starts to slip out. He murmurs praise and approval, but he pulls the stone out of me. I whimper at the empty feeling. Oh god. I clench around nothing, aching for more. For it to sit back inside me.

“Ach, donnae feel so sad mo ghraidh. We’re no’ done.” And he picks up the second biggest stone. “Suck it.” He growls holding the leather clad stone against my lips. “Lick it.” I do as I’m commanded. Licking, slurping, tasting the leathing against my tongue.

When I’m feeling silly and ready to stop, he licks me. His long sensuous tongue starts just before my unused hole, over my still clenching slit and flicks my bud. Before swirling around it, and dragging itself back down to my center. He thrusts it within. And I choke on a shout. Moaning at the warmth of him. Although the stones warm from me, the first had started off cold and feeling his tongue instead. Thrusting, shoving, so nicely within. Writhing within. My moan turns into a groan when his thumb grazes my bud. Just a flutter of a touch that makes me clench around his tongue.

He growls. Deep, dark, and within me. Trembling up from my womb. The butterflies turn into a thunderstorm and I clench my hands into the bedding. Writhing beneath him as I continue to suck and lick the leather stone. Imagining it is him. Wanting it to be him.

And then he’s pulling out of me. His tongue lapping up any of my spilling need for him before taking the stone from my lips. He places it at my entrance and while continuously grazing my clit, our eyes meet. My breath heavy and labored. As if I were running. I can feel myself on the precipice. “Whose are ye?” He growls, his accent so thick I’m almost unable to understand.

“Yours, mo ghaol. I am yours.” That feral grin from earlier graces his lips. Making him look fierce and terrifying. Dangerous. But it’s Caelan. So it makes me breathless and needy.

“Ach, yer mine. My chridhe. My leannan. My ghraidh.” With each emphasis, he thrusts the stone inside me. Little by little. Inch by inch. When he finally said his Ghraidh, it’s as close to flush within me as it can get. It’s so much bigger. Thicker. As it licks and kisses my womb within. Alternately, his thumb is practically abusing my bud. Roughly circling it with each thrust. When the leather covered stone is inside completely, he pinches it. I shout, my climax shattering me into teenie tiny pieces. My body milking it, demanding it’s seed. But there won’t be any and a piece of me, one I won’t acknowledge right this moment, is sorely disappointed.

He chuckles. In the haze I hear him murmur, “Soon. ‘fore yer boy comes home, A’ll fill ye t’ dripping.”

Chapter 8: Accept Him

Notes:

The terms Caelan uses is Gaelic/Scottish. Mo Chridhe = Moe Kree-uh, Mo Leannan = Moe Len-ann, Mo ghaol = Moe gill (this one is what he tells her to call him), Mo Ghraidh = Moe Ghry (like cry but you roll the R so it has an h sound after the g and before the r).

When I wake up the next morning, my body is beyond sore. The muscles in my lower half feel so very full. I whimper and move into a stretch when I realize, I am full. I moan, as I clench around the skinniest of the leather clad stones. I’m wearing that modified silk around my hips, keeping the stone in place.

I move to the edge of bed before getting my feet on the floor to stand. I reach for the tops of my thighs to pull the silk down them when a growl stops me. I jerk my head to the doorway and there is my orc, Caelan. “What?” I demand. All the sweetness and lightness from last night diminished in the light of day. “I can’t stay in bed all day. Nor can I walk around with this–” I gesture at the stone slipping out of me the little distance I was able to pull the silk down to. It makes me shudder because if it were Caelan, I can only imagine it thrusting back in. Vigorously. “–inside me. I have work to get done.”

I start the process of slipping the silk down again when he yanks my hands away. Putting them both in one of his hands quickly, and placing them behind my back in one swift move, I’m left surprised. “No.” He growls.

I sputter. “You can’t just–Look! I have things that need to get done. You can’t just keep me in bed all day long like a brood mare!”

He leans forward. His black eyes meeting mine. “Watch me.” 

I gasp with outrage. “YOU BRUTE!” I hiss. Wriggling in his grasp to no avail.

Even with one hand, he effortlessly moves me like a posable doll. Lifting one of my legs up, to rest on top of his now bent one, his foot on the frame of my bed, I’m left wide open. He reaches between us, gliding the stone back inside me. Inside where I would think after hours of lack of pleasure, I would be dry. Yet I am not. But with this insufferable male continuously placing the head of him inside of me to spew his seed within, I shouldn't be so surprised. I suck in air to try and not moan. But his chuckle would tell me otherwise.

“Donnae hold back lass. Ay’ve brought friends t’do yer work for ye. All they require,” He pulls the stone back out, slowly. I whimper. Thrusting it back in roughly, I shout when it grazes that bundle of nerves within, and his thumb bumps my pleasure bud. “Is a bit o’ music. Delicate beautiful perfume o’the air.”

I whine at the thought of other males listening in on this. Hearing me. My cheeks are red with embarrassment. Only. I am not aroused by the thought of men hearing me. Us. Smelling it. A shudder runs through me. Gooseflesh dotting my skin, as if it can feel the eyes on me.

“Ay donnae share. But these things.” He does it again. The insufferable male slowly exits the stone, only to thrust it back in. Quick. Sharp. Delicious. I moan, just the smallest bit louder. My ears redden with my mortification. “These they can ‘ave. If they but work for us, ach? Isnae fair mo chridhe?” I shake my head. I feel him smile against my shoulder. “Noo? Wou’d mo ghraidh rather they see it?” I squeak as he picks me up. Wrapping my ankles around his hips. It pushes the stone against his trousers. His crotch. And as he starts to walk us back to the door, the stone slides in and out with our walk. Almost feeling like it is him. Him thrusting in and out as we walk and heavens that desire to actually feel him do that with me? I shudder, my arousal perfuming the air.

“Does mo ghraidh wish they can see her pritty cunt swallow my prick?” He emphasizes my and I shudder once more. It’s not the thought of them, this embodiment of others seeing it, but the fact that I want it. I won’t care if he puts me on a pedestal in front of the entire town and stabbed his gorgeous scarred heft inside me again and again. Just so long as he does it. I whimper. He stops at the door.

Kissing where he’s bitten me, he takes my hands and lifts them above our heads. “‘Old this.” My hands touch a bar above the door that hadn’t been there yesterday or all my life living in this home. I grasp it. “Goo’ girl.” He rumbles. He takes my bottom in his palm, while the other lowers the silk. The stone falls to the floor with a thud. I wince and flush. That was quite loud. If there was truly someone outside they’d have heard that. He then places my feet onto little stools so I’m in a almost seated position. He smirks at my confused expression. But then, I’m lost as he unties the laces of his trousers.

He hums with delight. “Ay ‘ave another surprise for mo chridhe.” His trousers fall around his legs as he kicks his boots off. That’s the last thing I notice because his heft slaps his midsection as it lifts from its confines. It bobs with the force. My legs quiver and my mouth waters.

Caelan looks at me, exposed, holding onto the bar as tightly as I can in this very awkward position. He steps forward, his prick jerking the nearer it gets to me, until it’s wetness licks up my thigh. I moan. He grins at me. “Donnae ye ken my surprise?” He leans forward, breathing me in and humming his approval.

“No. I don’t. Cae–” At his arched brow, I cut his name off. “Mo ghaol.” He nods kissing my cheek. My nose. My forehead.

“My surprise, woman,” He cups my face in both of his hands, our eyes staring into each others’ with such deep intensity. “is ye donnae ‘ave t’stay in this position. In fact, ye’ll only be ‘ere till yer strength goes out. Ay’ll catch ye. Promise.”

My brow pinch. “How is that a surprise?”

“Ach, so clever, mo leannan.” His hands drift; over my neck and shoulders, caressing, more gentle scraping of claws than fingers. It makes gooseflesh pop up all over my body. He gently plucks my nipples, giving them a delicious and slight sting. When they are a lovely rosey shade darker than normal, he moves down. His hands cup my hips and thighs as he thrusts himself against me. Wetting himself on my need.

“See, mo ghraidh,” Caelan proceeds to lather himself with each thrust against me and he continues as if he’s having a conversation about the weather, “Ay ‘ave wanted to hear yer sweet words o’ longing. An’ ay’ve decided ay’ll ‘ave it. T'day. Ye ken mo ghraidh?”

I shake my head, lost in the feeling of him, rub, rub, rubbing against me. The sensation is making my arms weak and my legs tremble.

He smirks at my flushed complexion. “Ach, ye will. So pritty. So beau’iful. All mine.” And then his prick is at the entrance. Where I am dripping for him. Needing him. Weeping for him.

“Mo Ghaol!” I gasp as it stretches me from the bulbous head of him. The sting isn’t as much as before he’d started on the stones. But it was enough to make me writhe on his unmoving self. Wait. Why isn’t he moving? I groan and hiss. Wanting, needing him to move. I wiggle but his hold on my hips and thighs, makes it impossible to get more of him inside me.

He tsks me. “Patience.” He pulls out and I growl and glare at him.

NO. I inwardly hiss. Something inside of me telling me that this is my due. He owes me. Mine. Just like I am his. He is mine. All of him. Especially his seed. It turns into a keening cry as he thrusts the meager amount back inside of me. Yessss. I weep inside with relief. Not yet confident enough to say any of this out loud.

But then he stops once more.

At the frustrated snap of my teeth, Caelan chuckles. “Isnae so bad pritty leannan. Soon, ye’ll lose yer strength. Then, an’ only then, will ye impale yerself on me. Too weak t’ keep yer cunt from me. Ye’ll take me home. T’yer pritty womb.” His prick jerks as if demanding, wanting just that.

And my fuzzy brain finally starts to make some sort of sense of it. “Wait. But–Caelan.” He growls and I glare at him. “Caelan we’re not a couple.” I grit, a pain in my chest. It’s his turn to narrow his eyes into a glare. “You’re an Orc. You live somewhere else.” I tighten my slipping grip on the bar. “I’m not yours–

His eyes blaze. “MINE.” He growls, deep, low, reverberating into my very soul. He snaps his teeth and glares at me. “Ye’ll know yer place in this if ay ‘ave t’fill ye t’dripping. O’er and o’er again. Until e’en yer human nose can smell me on ye.” I feel the stools moving farther apart and I have to adjust my grip on the bar. It’s becoming increasingly harder. The dark depths of his gaze inform me that it is his doing. He wants me impaled on him. Screaming for him. Begging for his seed. My core quivers in anticipation.

“I’m not your wife!” I try to reason. “We can’t have a baby!”

He stares at me and laughs. Full belly laugh. Almost bowls over laughing. I feel a sting in my heart. Is he laughing at me? Is my being his wife such a terrible thing? “No. Yer no’ my wife. Yer mine. Mo leannan. Mo chridhe. Mo ghraidh. My mate.” My eyes widen and then he wraps his arms around back, one hand cupping the back of me as he leans in to nip the crook of my throat. “Accept me, mo ghraidh.” He pulls out only to thrust that smidgen back in. My fingers slip.

I let out a choked scream as my weight pushes me down on him. Stretching me. Filling me. Piece by piece. “Caelan.” I protest. One hand fisting his shoulder, the other gripping some hair that fell over his other. He growls at me. Ignoring him, I plead, “Ooooh.” I gasp. It feels so good. So good. It turns into a whimper of need. Needing him. Needing this. All of this.

“Ach, look a’ye.” Caelan moans his prick twitching inside of me. I look. Seeing myself swallowing him. Slowly. Impossibly slowly. My slickened thighs are spread obscenely. As his prick stretches me just as obscenely. “Stretchin’ so beaui’fully.” He snaps his teeth as I feel I can take no more. 

“I’m so full.” I pant. So much. Too much. I whimper as his hands grip my hips while he bucks his. “Oh go–Mo ghaol.” Fuck. “No more. I can’t.” I squirm, scratching him, pulling that hair in my hand. I’m so full. There’s too much. I can’t take anymore.

“Ach, ye can my mate.” There he goes again. Saying that term. It’s worse than the other tongue he is using. At least those I don’t understand what he is calling me. But this? I understand this. It causes goose bumps along my skin. A quiver in my belly. Belonging. He shunts forward causing me to mix a whimper and a moan. “The stones were jus’ as long, pritty mine.” He lifts me effortlessly, my weight pressing further down now that my feet are no longer on the stools. He slides in further. But still, not all the way.

Panting. Whimpering and pleading get me no where. It just seems to make him harder. Needier. More demanding. More growls, nips and licks.

He lays me down on the bed, my legs pushed to my chest as he bends over me. He swallows my moan as his prick juts against something inside. Something that makes me want to squirm. To moan. To hit it again and again. But he’s pressing me down into the mattress. He swallows my whimpers. His tongue dominating mine. Sharp teeth nipping mine, my lips. Tasting.

Both hands lower between us. One stops at my breast to knead and pluck it. The other continues south until it can pluck and rub the nub there.

With his prick jerking against that spot within, his plucking, pinching fingers, I feel myself slowly losing the battle with the pleasure. I rip my mouth away from his, as I shout my pleasure, squeezing him before relaxing rhythmically. When I’m relaxed long enough, Caelan thrusts that final amount within me. His heavy bullocks hot against my bottom. I gasp, grasping at him, clawing at him to relieve the fullness but reveling in it just the same.

“Oh, mo ghaol.” I like my lips. Tasting him.

“Ach.” He agrees. “Am yer ghaol, mo leannan. Yers.” He cups the back of my head and devours me. His long thick tongue dances with and dominates mine. Pulling away, his black eyes, a void I can’t help falling into, are filled with possessive desire. “Beau’iful. So beau’iful. An’ mine.” I whimper and wriggle as little and as much as he lets me while he slowly, so excruciatingly slowly removes himself from me. This is nothing like the stones. Nothing could compare to the hot flesh of iron gliding out of me. “All MINE.” He hissed before slamming home inside me.

The air inside my lungs is forcefully expelled. My nails gouge divots into his beautiful grey green skin. He slowly extricates himself from my clutching warmth. He says just that. “So warm. Clutching me. Suckling me. Wish for my seed mo chridhe? T’fill ye with my warmth? My fealty? My yearning and devotion?” With each word, each comment and question, he’s leaving and bottoming out inside me. Again and again. Filling me to bursting. I can’t respond. I can barely breathe. My brain is mush.  He continues speaking, as if his words will fill me just as his seed shall. He pauses to kiss me softly, sweetly. Full of desire. But also so tender. “Am no’ devout mo chridhe. But for ye? Ay would pray t’th’ goddess e’ry night.” He gazes into mine. “Yer mine mo chridhe. An’ ay’ll shackle ye t’ me anyway I can.”

If I thought his thrusting before was unyielding and full of desire, I was sorely mistaken. Because with those final words it was like a release of a feral beast. He leans back pulls my ankles to his shoulders and slams home over and over. Forceful and demanding. Becoming bruising with his claiming. Eliciting cry after cry from my lips. I shout. Again and again. Creaming along his heft as each thrust spills it out the sides, soaking the coarse hair between us.

He bends  forward wrapping my legs around his waist, his thrusts just as feral and demanding. “Ach, yer voice.” He growls, nipping the crook of my neck. “Mine. So pritty, mine. Fill ye t’dripping. Suckle me, mo ghraidh . So ay can fill ye wi’h my seed.”

“Oh god! Fuck! Caelan! Mo ghaol! Please!” My back arches as I shout my release. He growls, low, deeply possessive before his jaw clamps down onto the crook of my shoulder and neck. My body seizes, clenching around him on all sides as the blood rushes through me. I feel the hot splashing of his seed inside as my unprotected womb greedily takes it in like it were starving for it. For him.

Chapter 9: Keep It Warm an' Safe

Notes:

9/2/23 Edit: Missed some chapters so we'll be adding them in a big ol' heap since I can't unpublish previous chapters! So, Enjoy!

I whimper with each long pull from Caelan at my throat. Because each time he does, his prick twitches inside me. Sputtering inside anything he can get out of his heavy bullocks.

“Caelan.” He growls into my throat threatening. My thighs and core clench around him. “Mo ghaol,” I correct, “We need to bathe me. Wipe any excess off.” I tap his shoulder in a weak effort to get him up and off of me. “Clean inside me.” He removes himself from my throat with a dangerous growl. The blood on his lips, my blood, makes my heart stutter in my breast. I’m short of breath as he plants his hands on either side of me.

“Why?” He rumbles over me.

I swallow nervously. Because his words are distant and cold, even if I feel him hardening within me once more. Not that he softened much before. “Because I could get pregnant. Doctors say women are fertile weeks after our blood letting.” I flush brilliant red and hten my heart flutters once more.

Because Caelan is gazing at me with malicious, devious glee. His cheeks displaying dimples as he smiles down at me, bloody, wicked, sharp. “Ach, Ay ken mo chridhe.” He begins a slow retreat.

I wipe the imaginary sweat off my brow. Thank goodn– I squeak when he slams back inside. Sloshing the seed already inside me, spilling excess out like frothing foam outside. “Ooooh.” I moan as he continues. Slow exit before slamming home. Jolting me with pleasure. “I thought! You would! Help me clean!” Every other word is a gasp as his wicked black gaze devours me, my expressions, my words.

“Ach, ye ken Ay willnae leave the cleaning to chance? Orc seed is potent mo chridhe. E’en jus’ a li’l will be such a big chance.” He continues his measured assault on my lower body. Just staring at me, his hands on either side of my head. My own reach for his wrists to hold onto something solid. Unyielding.

I whimper. “Then, why? You’ve spent inside me many times since we’ve met. You even put a cloth inside me. Why chance it at all? I could have taken it in my mouth.” I yelp at a very savage thrust.

“Oh, mo leannan, ye still donnae understand.” He leans closer. Taking my hands in his and pulling them over my head. Our chests touching, his abrading mine in the most exquisite tease. He sucks on the end of my ear, nipping it before letting go and letting me hear his panting breaths with each demanding but rhythmic measured thrust. “Yer mine. No’ for a li’l. Forever. T’day,” He sits up, pulling my hands with him so we’re both caressing and cupping my belly. “yer pritty womb, will suckle me dry. We shall spark a son on ye. Ye ken mo chridhe? Mo ghraidh, my mate. Ay’ve watched ye for years.” I stare at him dumbfounded, as he pauses his measured loving. Twitching inside me but unmoving. “Ay love yer son, as if he were my own. When James died ay wished t’be by yer side but was too soon. Yer mine. Beau’iful an’ mine. An’ ay cannae wait t’ fill ye again an’ again till ye understand my devotion.”

“Caelan–

“No.” He growls. “Am yer mo ghaol.”

“What does it mean?”

He smiles wickedly, his hands doing one last caress of my belly before making me and him cup my breasts. He directs me to pinch them before grasping my hips. “Love.” He retreats and slaps our thighs back together. “Means My love.”

“But–

“No.” He growls again, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace that I would never have been able to keep up with. “Yer my love. My ghraidh. My heart. My mate.” With each proclamation, he’s taking more and more of my soul from me. My heart. Nobody has ever wanted to fill me, with all of them. Their heart, their words, their desire and need.

“Oh fuck, cae–

Quick as a viper, he grasps my neck, cutting off my voice. Tsking me. “My name mo chridhe.” He holds me until my vision darkens, my body clenching desperately around him before he allows me breath.

“Mo ghaol.” He purrs his delight. A soft rumble as he rubs my bud in a gentle caress. I wriggle in his grasp, feeling the delighted buildup. It’s coming on faster than anything I can comprehend. “OH! Fuck, mo ghaol. I’m–Please.” I whine. “Please fill me.”

His feral grin alights his face with glee. “Ye’ll regret sayin that when yer no’ so preoccupied wit’ pleasure, mo leannan. ‘Tis alrigh’ though. For, ‘till ye understand, ye willnae leave this bed.” He chuckles. The wet, desire filled slaps of skin against skin resounds off the walls of my room. Exits the window and my open door. “They can hear ye. Smell yer desire for me. Yer need. Mine. Such claiming.” He leans forward and bites a tad hard on my nipple. It makes me shout as I feel my climax coming closer still.

“Tell me, mo chridhe. Do ye wish t’ be filled, with my seed? Caelan of Clan Ka-Esh?”

I whimper. “Yes. I want your seed Caelan, mo ghaol. Please.” I’m so close. I can feel it. I’m teetering and he’s just keeping me there. At the knifes edge but not tipping me over. I shout, “Please! Caelan! Mo ghaol. Fill me. Till I can’t take anymore. Feed me. Bathe me in it. All of it. All of you.”

With a savage roar, he grinds his prick inside of me and clasps his hand around my throat. Divesting me of air but also, giving me so much pleasure. When my vision darkens and I’m nearing passing out, he lets go and pinches my nub while suckling my breasts, hard and deep. I shout. Nonsense words spilling out of me as I suck in every gasping breath. Caelan is not far behind, he shouts. He roars and snarls, fisting my hair and locking his jaw back onto the previously wounded place. A silent scream makes my mouth open wide and gawp like a fish as I scrape and scratch at his back, my heels digging into the mattress as if to get further and yet closer to him all at the same time.

His pumping, spilling appendage is soaking my bedding. Soaking me. Inside and out.

I’m left a panting puddle of a mess as he extracts himself from inside me. A fresh batch of seed spills from my emptiness. I moan and reach a hand down as if to keep it all within. Caelan’s dark eyes sparkle with approval. “A moment, mo ghraidh,” his semi flaccid heft has a string of his spend dangling towards the floor. I lick my suddenly dry lips. What I would do for him to feed that to me. He picks up the strange egg like stones with the flared ends and brings it to the bed, holding it to my lips. “Suckle.” I open my mouth the heaviness and smoothness of the stone reminding me of his bullocks. He smirks at my moan as his other fingers stuff me full of any spillage. He pulls the egg from my mouth and trails it down my skin, lapping up my saliva with his tongue. He rubs my bud with the egg before coating it in our mutual desire. My bud is flicked with his tongue as he strokes the egg against my entrance. I whimper. He groans, suckling my bud into his mouth. Nipping it. He pushes the egg inside and my body clenches around it. It’s tapered end have me closing around it and feeling still so full.

Caelan grins down at my needy center wrapped snugly around his stone egg. “There. Keep my seed safe an’ warm ach?”

Chapter 10: Guests

“Caelan!” I flush, with horror standing dressed in only a simple dress that Caelan allowed me. In my kitchen. With several other orcs sitting and standing at my table. They have various expressions on their harsh features. Some with lust. Others with envy. And some are almost indifferent.

“Ach, my mate?” He near purrs at my back. My thighs clench, reminding me that I’ve got a stone egg between them, making my insides quiver around it. I bite back a moan. Every nostril flares at the table. And from the loud pleased sniff behind me, so does Caelan’s. My face becomes more red than before. Because I know they’re smelling him on me. They’re smelling my pleasure. My attraction to Caelan. And most importantly, how much I still want it. “Our guests.” He waves a hand.

There are a total of six guests at my table of 4.

“Aufred of Clan Ash-Kai.” Aufred has the shorn hair which takes me aback, making him look much fiercer and mean than the rest. The ugly scar from left cheekbone across his face and down half a missing ear stands prominently on his face because of the lack of hair. He stands taller than Caelan but not as tall as the male next to him.

“Vanarr of Clan Bautul.” The giant orc has a pleated braid with a preserved flower at the end of its tail over his shoulder. He is battle scarred. Small cuts and slices all along his body. And one particularly nasty scar on his left forearm that looks like someone took an axe to him. He nods to me with a gentle if envious smile.

“Hubert of Clan Ka-Esh.” Hubert sneers at the chuckle in Caelan’s voice.

“Bert.” He snips. “You call me Bert woman.”

Caelan growls. “Naught. She calls you naught what ay tell her, ye ken?” Bert gives a stiff nod as he scratches at his scalp with black claws attached to a hand with only four fingers. He’s missing a pinky.

“Apologies Caelan.” Caelan takes that with a nod.

“Luke of Clan Grisk.” The Grisk’s gaze is full of envy as he smiles at me kindly. “Gadulf of Clan Skai. He carved your stones.” He grins at me. My wide eyes latch onto the Skai. His face of indifference shatters and he guffals at the horror on my face. “An’ las’ boot no’ leas’ my blood brother Ciarnan of Clan Ka-Esh.” There a teenaged Orc stands almost dwarfed by the other males in the room.

My head jerks to Caelan and he smiles sheepish. “Ach, Ay ken, Bert was showing him the work in the barn when we were occupied mo leannan.”

Ciarnan’s gaze meets mine. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. I look at Caelan who shrugs.

“You want me to feed everyone?”

“Donna worry pritty chridhe. W’ill provide most help an’ ingredients, ach?” He nods to the bunch. And they nod back, even Ciarnan. “Noo, ye will start on dinner an’ w’ill go begin harvestin’ an’ repairing yer farm.” He kisses my temple and scoots the rest of them out of my kitchen and home. Taking his younger brother beneath his arm and pulls him along.

 

I haven’t fed a lot of people in a long time. Not since before I married my husband. When I was a child-teen still too young for the hard labor, Mama had me in the kitchens feeding. Teaching me to feed all my brothers, Papa and my Mama. I was the only girl out of a brood of eleven. How Mama and Papa did it, I don’t know. But they taught me well, how to care for many with little.

Even if these orcs don’t give me little to work with. They know their arrival messes with my stores so they are hunting game and foraging in the forest while also helping with the chores. Hubert is currently dusting the entire house. He put up sheets around my kitchen so he wouldn’t contaminate my food.

“Caelan likes you.” Hubert’s voice says from the other side of my kitchen curtain. I’ve seen his silhouette for a few minutes but thought he needed to collect his thoughts. I hum noncommittal. “He has never searched for a mate. Pleasure partner, ach, but not a mate. Then, years ago, when his Pabbi died, leavin him with a young Cairnan, he stopped. But it was more than that. Much more. For he had to travel to get Cairnan, as his Pabbi did not live in the mountain. Feared it still. He had to cut through a farm.” My knife chops extra harsh to try and out sound the pounding of my heart. “Where a little woman and her husband were tillin the fields. A little boy about the same age as Cairnan sitting on a wagon, hollering orders.”

I remember that season. Jacob turned 4 that year. That’s ten years.

“Caelan hasn’t stuck his prick in anyone since.”

“Enough.” Caelan’s voice growls.

“I was just telling her about you.”

“Go to Cairnan. Vanarr said something abou’those Sissafraus–

“Sassafras.” Hubert’s smirk is in his voice.

Caelan growls, “Ach, that. Take Cairnan and help him.” Hubert chuckles before walking off. Calling back in the Orc tongue, which sounds very beautiful in comparison to what others say it sounds. Caelan prowels into the kitchen. “Ach, ay ken we can do that. Donnae ye think mo chridhe?”

I flush as he grasps my hips and pulls me close. “I don’t know what he said.”

“He said ay should spill on yer pritty thighs and lick it up.” I twitch and moan at the feeling of the egg. He chuckles darkly. “Ye’ve been clenching on that wishin’ it were me?” I whimper and give a subtle nod. Just the feel of him, the smell of him is making me needy.

Chapter 11: Hubert Remembering

I watch him hold up his trousers without their ties. Their misshapen and bulging in odd places as they are cut outs from humans but they still make his ars look divine. I’m ogling him. This male I’d been courting for years. It’s only been in the past year that we’ve had any sort of sexual relationship. He’s gorgeous and lithe. Not scrawny. He’s a little broad shouldered and chest that tapers into a smaller waist but well proportioned. Long limbed, he could be mistaken for an Ash-kai with his height. But his smell would give it away.

“Pabbi died.” His words penetrate me and my gaze jerks up to his. He’s in shock. Horrified and in shock. Pabbi. I’ve only met him once and that was before our relationship. Back when Caelan was fucking Liam. I grit my teeth on a growl. Liam was a piece of shit and not worth the thread on Caelan’s pants. His Pabbi knew this. But Caelan was fine using and being used.

‘Is naught else. Fucking.’ He’d told me. ‘Nice good ploughing, ye ken brother?’

‘Ach, I ken brother.’ Was my reply. But I did not. Do not. I fuck to keep. Not to wet my prick.

“I’m so sorry.” I offer. I know it means naught. But what else can I offer?

“Cairnan.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes wearily. I grab his hand, trying to guide him back to my bed. “Ay go t’im.” He shakes off my hand and he searches for his clothing.

“To him?” I gasp, standing, my body nude and ready for him. “That is far off. We can go in the morning. It is too late tonight.” I offer, picking up his shirt and holding it to my chest coyly.

Caelan looks at me. And I hand him his shirt. “Am leavin wit’out ye if ay must. But ay’d be grateful for ‘he company.” I nod and get dressed. I might have him now, but I know the camp his father was at. Any other orc would be glad to have him as well. Caelan is free in his loving and many an orc from that camp know it.

The only thing that keeps Caelan from fucking someone else, is likely my presence and his loyalty to my feelings. Not his sharing in them. He has not and will not share vows with me. I know this. Even if I try every day to change his mind.

We’re packed and out of the mountain for the travel in less than an hour. Not that we’d want to be any longer. The mountain isn’t exactly safe right now. There are whispers of insurrection but nothing that has been proven. And a Ka-Esh that lives in the mountain is a fresh piece. A fruit that many want a taste of.

We trek down and around the mountain. Away from orcs and humans a like. There tends to be infighting everywhere and we wish to avoid it.

We find many mushrooms of the edible variety. Taking time to pluck some and bag them so that we have a snack on the way. When we stumble upon a farm. Not even half a day from the mountain. How has it not been raided? Destroyed? We creep around it, edging around the woodland that is too near their fields.

We see that there is a human man tilling the fields. He’s about as old if not a little older than Caelan.

A laugh comes from behind him and our heads jerk to the left of the male. A woman, tiny and petite in comparison even to a human male of average height, brings a tray with a cup of liquid on one hand and coming around the barrel of tools, her other hand is holding that of a boy. One that is no older than Cairnan.

“Come on, lets get ou–

I don’t finish my sentence. Because I’m looking at Caelan. My Caelan.

Not. My. Caelan.

His eyes are wide, the black beautiful depths within are staring. Staring. Entranced. Desire. Need.

I jerk my head back to the family. To the woman, to the man, to the child. Back to Caelan. And I see it. The end. Finis.

I am that is.

We are.

“Caelan–

“We must go.” But we do not. Not yet. The mama puts her boy on a wagon and pulls out a hoe. She rolls up her meager sleeves and starts tilling the soil along with her husband. She laughs. She giggles. And Caelan is enraptured.

He does not touch me again. Does not touch anyone. We travel to camp, and even with offers better than I, he turns them down. We arrange for his Pabbi to come home to be buried with Caelan’s family and we bring Cairnan home. Avoiding the little farm on the way back.

Chapter 12: Ten Long Years

Summary:

This is Caelan's memory of meeting James.

Is his birthday. Cairnan isnae happy. Ay made two journals. Ay saved one. Cairnan’s. An’ ay’ve left the o’her on the sill of a second story window.

He thanks his Papa. Excited an’ happy. He likes to make pictures.

Ay make him paints. He thanks his Papa. He wishes to carry it aroun’.

An’ as ay leave a satchel on his sill, landing soft on the groun’, am found. By his Papa. A shovel at’he back of my neck. “James.” My voice murmurs, silent in the crisp night air.

Ay lif’ my hands to show am no’ a threat, an’ turn to face t’man who loves an’ is married to the woman ay pine for.

James is handsome for a human male. He is a kind papa. A generous husband. Doesnae fault mo leannan for her inability t’read. For anythin’ ano’her might find fault in her. Some nights, as ay sleep in a tree, ay hear her sighs an’ soft whimpers an’ ay know is this man who pleasures her.

Am jealous of ‘im. Ay hate ‘im. But ay donnae begrudge ‘im. Mo chridhe is beau’iful. Inside an’ out.

“What are you doing here Orc?”

“Ye are close t’he mountain.” Ay answer as way of explainin’.

Ay see his jaw tic. “I told her we would be discovered sooner than later. I’m surprised it has taken so long.”

“Like it is because some donnae care for it t’be pillaged.” Me. Ay donnae care to see it pillaged. For mo chridhe t’be snatched from my grasp.

He looks at me. Ay know he doesnae lack intelligence. He understands long before any other human might. Or mayhap, he understands just as much as what he is taught. “You want my wife.”

Ay feel emotion leaking from my face. Ay donnae acknowledge this statement. Ay willnae lie to him. But t’ admit ‘he truth like would get me killed. Am no fighter. Donnae have a weapon on me. Ay come ‘ere alone. Leavin’ my brother t’ the Skai Gadulf who has proven in keeping our orclings safe. If ay were t’ die, they wouldnae know where t’ look at first. An’ even if, there is a handful o’ orcs who will mourn my passing.

“Why are you leaving gifts for my son and not my wife then?” Anger, dark and bitter flashes in his eyes. “I’ve heard about your sick perversions but you will not--”

“ACH! NO.” Ay growl with revulsion. “Yer sif! Ay love yer sif.”

The anger has dimmed but the bitterness seems t’ave risen. “Of course. Will you bring your brothers,” He sneers the word, “to take her from me?”

Ay shake my head. “No. Yer sif is safe.” From me. From Orcs. She is safe.

“How can I just believe that? You’re an orc.” But he lowers the shovel.

“Ay can show ye things. Share wit’ ye knowledge ye wouldnae have otherwise. Make life easier for yer family.” Ay don’t say wife. But he isnae stupid. He understands my wish is for her. Ay only care for him because she does. “Unless ye wish t’ step aside, ay will stay on ‘he sidelines. A present here o’there isnae a problem ay think? Ye can take ‘he praise. O’ say is from a relative. Ay care no’.”

“This doesn’t prove you aren’t trying to take my family from me!”

“The mountain isnae safe for me t’ steal ‘em away. An’,” He holds his breath, “she is ‘appy.”

The shovel lowers even further. “You do love my wife.”

“Ay do love yer wife.” My mate. His wife. My mate.

That started a not friendship between me an’ the husband o’he woman ay loved.

Ay watched her love my presents from afar. E’ry garment. E’ry knowledge, like plumbing, ay taught him an’ she loved was like kisses on my skin. An’ Jacob loved me. E’en if he didnae know it was me, listening t’im in ‘he trees. His sorrows. His hopes. He knew wasnae his papa that got him presents but he couldnae–wouldnae demand to know who. He loved his Papa. An’ he loved me.

When James got sick, ay knew he were dying. He knew too. Came to me in my tree an’ asked me to watch ‘er. T’ love ‘er. E’en if he hated knowing it were no’ ‘im, he wanted her loved. By then, it had been six years. Six years o’ loving from afar. An though, ay grieved, ay also rejoiced. Was bitter yet happy. We said goo’bye for ‘he las’time. Jacob died that night.

Ay sat beneath her window, the closest ay’d e’er allowed myself e’ry night as she wept for weeks. Whisperin’ in the tongue of my Pabbi how ay would love her soon. Hold her soon. Ay promised so much. But could do naught until the time was right.

‘Til she were ready.

Chapter 13: Can I do this? Again?

He hums a growl. “Though, ay donnae think we can. No’ a drop can be spared.” He grins down at me, kissing my nose and pulling my hips in close to grind his swollen heft against my belly. “Ask why.”

My lips tremble. My legs tremble. “W-why?” I ask.

His grin turns feral as he looks lustfully upon me. “Yer pritty cunt needs all of my seed, donnae ye ken mo ghraidh? Ay said yer womb would be full o’me til yer human nose can smell my love on ye.”

I squeak as he picks me up and my legs wrap around him in self preservation, while my hands lock behind his neck. He chuckles and walks me to my table. My eyes bug but I don’t back down. “That’ll never happen. Human noses can’t detect emotions!”

He snarls, it makes me both afraid and aroused. Afraid because the primitive part of my brain thinks ‘predator’. But the one that has been taken by this male not too long ago is quivering with desire. Those teeth won’t harm me. They’ll scrap and scar my throat but he would never tear my flesh away. “Then ay guess ye will be full o’ my seed till yer dying breath.” My core clenches and I whimper. Wishing it were him.

As he pushes my skirt up over my thighs and around my waist, I know that it’ll be happening soon. His fingers caress my thighs with sensual delight. Swirling and twirling on my skin until they meet on either side, creating a diamond over my center. Framing it. For his viewing pleasure.

He takes his hands away, one sliding up my dress to cup and fondle my breasts. Watching it beneath my clothing is so erotic, I'm transfixed enough to not notice what his other hand is doing until his thick heft is bobbing against my pleasure nub, butting the egg deeper in even though it can’t go any further. I groan. “Mo ghaol.” My love. My cheeks flush brilliantly against the brown table.

“Ay’ve waited so long t’see ye like this.”

“Trussed up and waiting for you?”

His black gaze is warm and needy. “No.” He bends forward, his heft heavy between the crux of my thighs. “T’see ye as mine. Wholely mine.” He caresses my cheek with slow unhurried strokes. “No people, no walls, no boundaries between us. No distance ay cannae bridge.” He leans forward and gently kisses my lips, my cheek, my jaw, before nuzzling my neck. He kisses me there too. And my heart aches with his tenderness. The hand that was fondling my breasts, reached down and tugged the egg from me. And as it exits, Caelan enters.

Slow. Steady. Deep. I whine at the feeling. So deliciously sore. He pulls away to look down at me.

“Ye are my mate. For 10 years ay’ve waited. 10 years ay ‘ave longed to touch yer skin. Kiss ye.” He is slow in loving me. Gentle ins and outs. Bottoming out with a hand on my belly. “Mo chridhe,” I’m twitching around him. Feeling all of him. Every inch, every scar. It is delightful. Until he stops. My brows meet in a v of confusion. I look at him, about to ask why in the world he would stop. But the look in his face, in his eyes, so deep, black and enrapturing, stops the words from escaping my lips. “Ay love yew.”

I suck in a breath. Staring at him in surprise. “Caelan–

He threads his fingers into my hair, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones, “Ay love yew. Wit’ all my heart. For 10 years ay’ave loved ye. An’ now, af’er so many years, ye are mine. Beau’iful an’ mine.” He fills me with a desperate thrust, wrenching another gasp from me. “Ay know ye donnae love me yet. Ye have had so li’le time t’ know me.” He continues thrusting deeply into me. Kissing my womb, reaching my deepest depths with his words, as he does with his prick. His eyes hold mine, as his hands hold mine. “Is okay, mo ghraidh, ay can show ye how t’ love me. Show ye all the ways ay love ye.”

A hand glides back down between us to press and sweetly caress my engorged nub. Before I can even comprehend what has happened, what he’s done, I’m flying into the sky with his name on my lips. Shouting to the rafters. Caelan releases with me, whispering words that sound so familiar in a tongue I’ve never heard. It melts into my skin and soothes my fearful heart. Afraid to love again. To give myself again.

Chapter 14: Jacob

Jacob

"How is your Mam?” Uncle Braum asks after finishing a bite of his meal. This is my last dinner at my Uncles before I am to return home.

"Ach, well enuf.” I murmur around a bite full of potatoes. Uncle Braum nods in understanding.

"Your poor Mam.” Aunt Hilda states dabbing her lip with a napkin, a little bit of the beef stew sauce on the off white fabric. I had helped even though she hadn't wanted me to. Said it was what she paid her servants for. "With those *beasts* roaming the woods of late. I worry for her safety.”

I frown, concern furrowing my brow. "What beasts?”

Uncle Braum growls, "The orcs boy! Rumours of Orcs trampling the forest. Looking for weary women to--” He coughs, as if remembering who he is speaking to. "Never you mind. I've been thinking it best to move you and your Mam here.”

My frown deepens. "Ma owns that farm. She'll naught leave.”

Aunt Hilda sniffs. "Women shouldn't own land. She needs to find herself a good husband. It's been long enough since Joseph passed. Why, she's younger than Braum and we're on our sixth child.” She shakes her head, patting her rounding belly, as if I being the only were such a failing of Ma. 

My lips tighten, "Da said I was enuf. He didnae want Ma to have more.”

"Which is why she should get married as soon as possible. Doctors say a woman is only fertile in her youth and your Mam is already lagging--”

Uncle Herren or Ren as he likes me to call him, since he is only at most, 5 years older than I, interrupts. "She owns that land. I will not have you filling him with any nonsense otherwise. She is *grown*. Left home long 'fore I came along. If she finds love with no man, so be it. If she finds love with an orc, so be it. Is not our place to tell her she is right nor wrong.” He states matter of factly pointing a fork at both Uncle Braum and Aunt Hilda. "Our sister will not leave. We know this. If you wish her safe, I'll go with Jacob in the morn.”

"You're just like Mam.” Grumbles Uncle Braum with a roll of his eyes and toss of his napkin on his empty plate. GrandMam is still alive. Though GranDa passed before my tenth year. She is very astute for her age and very stubborn. She is all for Ma having her own land. Choosing her own fate as she likes and not interfering. Once, when I was visiting with Da and Uncle Braum tried to push for Da to have another child asking if he had the bullocks or if he should see papers for divorce, GrandMam cut in with a growl not unlike Caelan's. 'You will leave my dau'ter alone or I will have *your* bullocks hangin as misteltoe come Yuletide!'

"That would be a fine idea.” I agree knowing that if not Ren, then like Uncle Braum will send one of his hands. And I know, even if Ma will deny, Caelan want Ma. I think he's been around longer than he's said and he wouldn't take kindly to another man learing at Ma. Though help would be appreciative, especially as they take half our harvest, I know Caelan could take half if not twice the work than any of Uncle Braum's men. "Ach, I ken is time for sleep. Long day ahead tomorrow.” I stand.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?” Uncle Braum asks with an odd glimmer in his eye.

I swallow around the dryness suddenly in my mouth and throat. "Ach, I went to school for a time, if you recall. I liked some of the words and use 'em now. Goodnight.” I kiss Aunt Hilda on the cheek goodnight. Then my two younger neices on the crown of their little heads. Finally, I ruffle the hair on my younger two nephews as the oldest is older than me and quite stiff with me. I head to my rooms.

 

Chapter 15: Son's Coming Home

"Our son comes on the morrow.” Caelan murmurs in my ear. I try to tell him to shut up and not talk about our-my son while this is happening but my mouth is gagged and I can't speak through it. He hums his pleasure as he fills me. He's been filling me. I haven't helped with any of the work or the chores these past days. Vannar made an extensive list of things that needed to be done around the place for next years harvest. before the frosts etc. And all I've really done is inventory. Because if I'm not going over what we have, what we need I'm being filled.

Stuffed with silken seed. Left sloshing inside with the stone egg stoppering me. "Ach, he is my son. Long 'fore you were mine, he was mine. Loved him as a parent should. When he comes home, we give him truth, mo chridhe. No hiding. No lying. Ach?” He shunts inside me.  His arms wrapped around my chest, my own tied behind my back, breasts thrust forward, thigh thrown over his hip as he slowly but steadily slides within me. I whimper around the gag but nod my head. "Good, lass. So sweet. Will you cry for me? Give such sweet muffled shouts?” His thrusts are quicker. Harsher. I do. Just as he asks. As loud and as long as I can. He grunts and growls, his fingers gripping my breasts and pinching my aroused peaks. He bites down on my neck and fills me again. But this time, he will stopper it. With his prick for the rest of the night.

I wake with a gasp. My lips gawping like a fish, fingers clutching the black hair, tangling the already dishelveled strands. "Caelan.” I moan. Hissing and muttering. Thighs spread, splayed for him. His fingers slip down my crease to the opening he hasn't plundered. Merely teased as he is doing now. With his tongue buried inside me.

It's not even light out. I can tell that much.

I shout, I scream. I cant my hips to a rhythm you only feel in dance or with glorious intimacy. Gods above! I spill on his lips, and clench his tongue and fingers he'd somehow pressed inside during my mindless hip thrusts. Panting as he lazily lavs me, I ask, "Why are you dressed?” I don't acknowledge the disappointment in my tone. I'm still not taking all of this seriously. He can't be into me. Truly. I'm an old woman, at least, that's what I'm told. Nearly too old to be having children, if what the church says is true. If that is what Caelan wants, who knows what will happen when his seed doesn't thrive?

Actually I do know. I'll be alone. Again. Mending my broken--NO. No broken. Just wounded. I can't be giving my heart away. Not again.

Caelan watches me intently, as he slides up my splayed form. Staring at me twitching and thinking. Reading me like I were some book. "Ay havnae fucked you enuff.” My eyes widen. He growls and nips my chin. "Ay go to meet our son, halfway. They'll be leaving soon, an' ay wish t'greet him fore you fill his head wit' naught but your silliness.” I glare at him and he smiles. "He will know where ay stand. Even if you do no' believe me. He will.”

I grasp at his mussed hair, not yet brushed to leave. "You will not hurt my son. When you leave--”

"Am no' leavin' you!” He growls, brows meeting, rage in his gaze. "Yer mine, an' a'll fight anyone who says otherwise. E'en you.” He gives me a hard and bruising kiss, when he pulls away, I am panting. "Brush my hair mo chridhe?”

I swallow the fear and the anger and the trepidation down. Nodding, taking his brush and I brush his hair, braid it. Just as first light tweaks the sky, Caelan, Aufred the Ash-Kai, Luke the Grisk, and Gadulf the Skai. Leaving me here with Hubert, Vanarr the Bautul and his brother. Who is still eyeing me like I'm going to poison him or his brother.

"Did he say what I'm allowed to do today?” Vanarr shook his head and my brows arched in surprise. He usually has been announcing to everyone that I'm not allowed to do this or that each day. I smile, taking a deep breath. Today will be good. Revitalizing as I exhaust myself into not thinking about those words spoken to me before he left. "Alright, show me what you all have accomplisehed these past days.” Vanarr nods, Hubert looks on disgruntled as if he wishes to tell me no. But he's not allowed to. Once I take stock of what has been done, I'll know what needs to be done. The weather is cooling, we might get snow early this season and I like to be prepared.

Chapter 16: Jacob

Notes:

Haven't written anything after this yet, so it'll be a bit before we get another chapter. Thanks for being on this journey with me so far though! I do have other Orc Sworn Fanwork stories, if you haven't looked them up, check them out!

Jacob

"Uncle.” I growl, not unlike Caelan. "I thought Ren was the only one coming?”

Uncle Braum smiled. "Just Uncle Ren would be terrible if Orcs are about. I'll not lose both my brother and my nephew in one swing of those beasts claws.”

I grit my teeth, feeling them grind. Ren watches my face, the muscle at my cheek twitching. He opens his mouth, "Ack, you annoying twit. If you're going and these blumberin fools are, I'm going too.” GrandMam grouses with an eyeroll. She looks to my cousin and whacks his shin with her cane. "Go get Maudy.” Horror makes his normally warm colors pale. Maudy is the most unruly and violent of mounts yet GrandMam will not put him down. Says it's how he shows affection.

Uncle Braum is fuming. He was felled. He might be in charge of the household but not a single one of them will detain her for fear of the damage she'll do to them. That cane is unneeded, she may act feeble, but it is an act. GrandMam uses her cane as a weapon.

"GrandMam,” I murmur, "Wouldn't you rather sit with me?” 

She rolls her eyes before kissing my cheek. "Thank you, but no. I will gladly see all from Maudy's back.”

Chapter 17: Jacob

Summary:

GrandMam is gonna kick some ass.

Notes:

Probably moving this to once a month for updates on this one. If you're lucky and I'm in a great mood, twice a month XD

Edit: 1/17/24 didn't realize there was a sentence missing at the end of this bit. so I added it.

Jacob

Hours pass both in companionable silence, and with friendly banter between Ren and I. Even when Uncle Braum asks some pointed questions that make me feel extremely uncomfortable, I am able to maneuver around them. Answer him without actually answering. Or GrandMam will interrupt us and say she wants some quiet, that the loud banter of males is bothering her enjoyment of this lovely scenery.

A shout from the front of the convoy makes the hairs on my arms raise. “Caelan.” His name is a whisper on my lips but I catch Ren’s narrowed gaze before he looks to the front.

Uncle Braum growls. “I knew it!” He shouts, “Men! Take up arms! There are orcs invading my lands!”

Panic fills my lungs. “No. No nonono.” Caelan isn’t stupid! He would know where the boundary lies! I jerk the reigns of my horse and swerve around the line. There, is Caelan, standing in the middle of the road. Unarmed. Alone. Oh god, he is stupid. “Caelan!”

But then Uncle Braum is at my side gripping the back of my neck with his large hand and fear fills me for the first time in my life. Not for the first time. But for the first time towards my Uncle. Oh mom. I’m sorry.

“Get off my property orc.”

His smile is like the indulgent one he gives me during our lessons in the mountain. But it’s cold. Bitter and… angry. “Ach, ay am.” He waves a hand at the sign posting of Uncle Braum’s land. That is in front of him. He’s not on Uncle Braum’s land!

“The land you stand on is mine too you fool.” Uncle Braum growls.

“NO!” I hiss. “It’s Moms!”

“As she no longer has a husband laws say it should go to her oldest closest relative.” He snarls at me.

“Le’him go.” Caelan growls, his accent thick. Angry.

“He’s my nephew. He means nothing to you orc.” And then a look of further disgust crosses his feature. “He’s a child you disgusting creature!”

Caelan’s lips pinch. “He’s my son an’ ye weelnae threaten him more!” I have to rapidly blink my eyes because that statement fills me with such warmth. I have always loved my Papa. But I knew he wasn’t the only one providing for our family. How mom didn’t realize it, I’ll never know. But I did. I’ve always loved Caelan. Just like my Papa, Caelan has always been my father in my heart.

Then I watch as other orcs, Orcs I’ve never met before, walk out of the forest surrounding the road. A couple sit in the trees and my fear spikes again. Wait wait wait.

“Then we’ll fight for him. And when I win, I’ll set my sister straight.” He pulls a sword from a scabbard on his horse as he dismounts his horse. He instructs one of his hands to hold my horses reigns and the back of my neck.

“STOP!” I shout. But I’m a child. No one is going to listen to me. I watch with horror and so much fear as Caelan pulls out his own weapon, his glare full of murderous intent. “PLEASE!”

And then a horse comes barreling forward, knocking into Uncle Braum’s men before a figure leaps off the saddle. GrandMam lands with the most withering of all glares. She swings her cane out like it were a sword of her own, smacking it into Uncle Braum’s stomach, before flicking to snap into his wrist as he bends over. She trips him before turning on Caelan, who drops his weapon before she can strike him. She raises her brow as he raises his palms.

When he takes a step away from her and her weapon, she sniffs, raising her chin. “If anyone wants to fight the orcs they can fight me. I might be old but I can take any of you twits. And if any of you Orcs wish to fight my family, I’ll show you what a little woman can do and send you crying back to the mountain.” The Orcs nodded fear and respect in their gazes as they melted back into nature.

“And you!” She glares at me and the man holding me in place. “Let go of my grandson. His father wishes to take him home.” She makes another sniff. “Ren, will you be joining them?”

“Of course, Mam.” He murmurs from the middle of the group.

“Good.”

She looks down her nose at Uncle Braum. “Go home. Now.”

“What about you?”

Her glare could peel skin. “Go.”

“Yes Mam.” And he and his men were off.

When they're out of sight, she sighs. "Oh I'm getting too old for that." She stretches and her back cracks. Sighing again, she smiles and stands up straight, her piercing gaze staring holes into Caelan.