Page 19 of One Stolen Night with Her Orc

“Grev. Can we please change the playlist? It’s like listening to sad country music by hipsters. Pleeeease.” August slaps Bjorn on the arm. Bjorn’s whines are funny, but also true. Grev and I haven’t spoken much since I moved here, but he certainly seems to walk around with a sad thundercloud over his head, like one of those cartoon characters. Now, though, Grev shoots lasers from his eyes at Bjorn.

“Can’t help it. You don’t have good taste,” Grev says.

“Maybe you need to buy your morning coffee from Moonlit Grounds. Pretty sure Ravena is a witch. And pretty sure she makes love potions and slips them into our drinks.”

Koru and Grev groan in unison. “Not this conspiracy theory again, Bjorn. You know, you sound crazy when you talk about Ravena. Also,fated mated.”

Bjorn snorts. “There are rumors. And they are true. I will prove it to you! And weren’t you scoffing about fated mates not too long ago?” Bjorn gives Koru a pointed look. “And if nothing else, Grev will get out and socialize more. Like a puppy.” He shrugs. Grev flips him the bird.

“It’s true,” August jumps in, and we all look at her in shock. “Not about Ravena,” she waves us off, “Bjorn is on his own with that theory. But he does have the worst taste in music.”

“Ah, gee, thanks darlin’. Thanks for having my back.”

“I’ve got your back. But I also speak the truth.” August smiles, then puts a spoonful of roasted butternut squash on Bjorn’s plate. “It’s good for your cholesterol.”

“Koru. Tell August that orcs don’t have to worry about their cholesterol.” He rolls his eyes.

Koru shrugs, a tiny smile on one side of his mouth. We’ve also had this conversation recently. Must be the hint of spring in the air—August and I are excited for fresh vegetables, not things that have been stored in a fridge for months.

“I think I saw a sprig of green today on my walk,” I say, letting whatever thoughts I have in my mind wander freely. “Does spring come earlier here than on the mainland? Because of the tempering effect of the ocean? Or later, because of the tempering effect of the ocean?”

“I saw a snowdrop the other day, too!” Anne says. She seems sweet. Sweeter than her mate, Urk, who sits with his arms crossed glaring at his brothers.

I look to August for help. She just shrugs. I look at Koru, who also shrugs. “You grew up here. I feel like you should know how the weather works.” Now I look pointedly at Grev.

“Yes, spring tends to come earlier here than the mainland. Mostly. The northern current runs down the western side of the island, so that side is significantly colder, and wind-worn. Also, the mountain is late, comparatively speaking. I’m sure Bjorn can speak to late season frosts that happen every year, causing unprepared folks to need rescuing.”

August coughs, her cheeks red. Bjorn glares at Grev, cracking his knuckles. Eventually, Grev realizes that he overstepped and tries to backpedal. “Sorry, I didn’t mean you. Wasn’t even thinking of you.”

“Clearly,” Bjorn snorts.

“And time for dessert!” I shout, standing, ready to avoid any bloodshed over dinner. While I’m in the kitchen, I can hear their friendly fire gaining heat. These orcs and their tempers. Cake in hand, I rush back out, tripping on my way to the table. The cake arcs through the air, a graceful swan of a cake. I hear gasps, an “oh shit!”, and I’m pretty sure I shriek.

Koru, my hero and lover and protector, catches the cake with both hands, like it’s a bundle of baby, and sets it down on the table with the biggest and stupidest grin on his face that I’ve ever seen. Frosting splattered all up his arms and across his chest. The temptation to lick it off him is great.

Everyone erupts in claps and cheers. I cry.

“Why are you crying?” Koru whispers, holding me close with his sticky cake fingers. No one is paying me any mind. They’re all digging into the cake now. Literally. With their hands. A cake free-for-all.

“I don’t know. Hormones? Overwhelmed with gratitude? Put to shame by your amazing reflexes.” I cough a laugh at the last one.

He kisses the top of my head, taking a moment to breathe in and out. “No need to be ashamed. We all have our own gifts. Yours? Infinite in bed. And in the kitchen. And talking to people. And thieving. Mine? Brewing beer. And beating up my brothers. And now, catching flying cake.”

We grab our forks and join the others at the table. No one bothered to scoop cake onto a plate but eat the cake communally from the middle of the table. Bjorn isn’t even using a fork, just his hand. He keeps smearing little bits on August, then licking it off.

“Get a room, you two!” Grev growls, but even he is laughing.

My heart swells at my new family. Gratitude to Koru, for loving me even though we started out so rocky. Gratitude that even with Addy getting settled in her new apartment, she’s coming to visit next month. And gratitude that I get to write my own rules from now on. I get to call my own shots. I work a job I love at the library. And I have an orc whom I adore, and who adores me. And I have friends. Camaraderie.

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LATER THAT NIGHT, TUCKEDinto bed after washing the dishes and the table—literally, Bjorn brought in a hose and hosed the table down—I roll over to Koru to tell him how happy I am.

He’s snoring. His septum ring moving ever so gently with each growly snore. I wonder if they make nasal strips in orc sizes?

Carefully not to wake him, I undress, then roll on top of him, licking from his hard stomach up to his nipples, then down again. Down, down, to where his cock springs up for me. On demand. I smile.

Koru’s eyes are still closed, but he’s no longer snoring. Faker. I run my tongue from root to shaft of his thickset, sturdy cock, admiring the shine I give it. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. One hand on his balls, one on his cock, I slide my hand up and down his shaft along with my mouth. Rolling the head with my tongue each time. It’s a stretch to fit all of him in my mouth. The stretch feels good; I imagine my pussy stretching to take him as he fills me.

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