Her Orc Husband

Marut doesn’t carry me to our bedroom. I recognize our hallway by the signpost at the last crossroads in the tunnel, so I know we’re close, but he stops in front of that beautifully carved double door I saw on our way in last night.

“Is this…?” I ask as he sets me down in front of it.

Marut only smirks, unlocks the door, and pushes both sides open. Darkness greets us—and the scent of books. The library smells like Ellis’ shop, only older, a heady mix of paper, parchment, and ink. I blink to let my eyes adjust while my husband walks forward, takes a lantern off a wall hook, and lights the wick. He carefully replaces the glass cover and sets the lantern back on the wall, far from the bookshelves. It’s dry in here, and instead of the packed earth I’ve gotten used to, the floors here are covered with oak boards, sanded to a soft gray. And all around me stand bookshelves, row upon row of them, disappearing in the darkness.

There are so many books here. And not just that—scrolls and writing tools, rolls of leather that might be used for book binding, and to the side, a great lump of a mechanical contraption I don’t recognize. It reminds me of a complicated spinning wheel, but instead of yarn, there are papers piled on it. Everything at once demands my attention, and I want to live in here and just explore all day.

Behind me, Marut closes the library door and latches it. I turn to him, surprised.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pulled from my library daydream. “I thought you wanted to…”

I still can’t make myself say the words, but my husband understands me perfectly anyway.

“Oh, I do,” he purrs.

I gasp in delight. “You mean… Here?”

The dark library, so large I can’t even see the ends of the room, suddenly seems filled with possibility. There must be a private nook somewhere, or perhaps a desk?

“Come with me.” He offers me his hand.

Not long ago, an invitation like this would have sent me running. I never thought I would find someone who instilled such trust in me. Someone I felt completely comfortable with. I reach for my husband’s hand, thinking he will lead me gently to wherever he wants to ravish me.

But Marut pulls me close and kisses me, his arms closing around me in a tight embrace. I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between my lips. When I respond, nibbling on his lower lip, he groans and palms my ass. He hauls me up, and I struggle with my skirts for a moment, trying to ruck them up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. I need him close, so close, but Marut doesn’t let me—he carries me through the stacks and turns sharply around a corner. The lantern light dims behind the tall shelves, and I blink, trying to get my vision to adjust.

Then I glance over my shoulder to see where he’s taking me. At the sight of a low bed, my heart skips in my chest.

“You sleep here?” I ask, breathless.

Marut strides to the bed and lays me gently on my back. “Sometimes, I forget that I have a room right next door. This is my solution to prevent myself from falling asleep at my desk.”

He jerks his chin up, and I follow his gaze to a large desk, which is stacked with books and papers, much like the one in his bedroom. I can just imagine him working late into the night, squinting at the small print in some obscure reference book, then stumbling over to the cot when his eyes grow too tired to see.

It’s another glimpse into my husband’s life, and I love it.

“Do you think we could fit another desk in here?” I ask, glancing from side to side.

Marut kneels on the edge of the bed in front of me and inches up the hem of my skirts. “For you? Aye, we can definitely do that.”

I squirm, then help him by gathering up the fabric, exposing myself to him. “A-and I can help you with your work.” I fight off a shiver as he rolls down first one stocking, then the other. “With—ah!—with correspondence, maybe?”

“Hmm.” Marut lowers himself to the bed and settles between my legs. “Correspondence, you say?”

“Yes,” I gasp. His lips are inching up my inner thigh, his tusks scraping lightly over my skin, and I no longer know what I’m agreeing to.

“I don’t know if that’ll work. I might be too distracted if you’re always here. Won’t get any work done at all if I can scent how wet your pussy is for me.”

I lift myself on my elbows to meet his gaze. He sends me a wicked grin. A puff of hot breath is the only warning I get before he dips his head to my core and swipes his tongue through the lips of my pussy. He licks up my wetness, then circles my pearl with the tip of his tongue.

I flop back on the bed, groaning. “You’re right,” I pant. “We’d never get any work done. This is a terrible idea.”

Marut’s fingers clench tighter around my ass. “Oh, no.” Another swipe of his talented tongue. “You’ve done it now. I want you here every day, ready to help. I won’t have it any other way.”

My pleasure crests so fast, I’m caught off guard when my climax hits, blinding white and powerful. I cry out, but the sound is swallowed by the stacks of books, so it doesn’t echo in the large chamber. My pussy clenches, empty, and I writhe under Marut’s care, trying to get more from him.

He raises himself so he can stare down at my face, as if he’s gauging every one of my reactions. “Are you sore from last night?”

I shake my head against the pillow, beyond caring that my braids are coming undone. “I just need you.”

Marut teases my pearl with two fingers, then slides them lower, inside me. He fucks me with them slowly, keeping an eye on my face. Soon, he adds a third, and I gasp at the intrusion.

“Pain?” he rumbles.

“No.” I roll my hips to meet his next thrust. “Please, Marut!”

He gives me one last, deep stroke, then pulls his fingers from me and licks them clean. He groans at the taste of me, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed, him towering over me, lost in pleasure at my taste.

Then he moves, faster than I anticipated. He strips his shirt over his head, exposing his broad chest, and stands for long enough to kick off his leather pants and boots. He’s so incredibly beautiful, I could stare at him for days, but his urgency seeps into me, propelling me into action. I sit up to remove my gown, fingers shaking with need, but Marut growls and bats my hands away.

“I will do this,” he decides.

I stare up at him, breathless. His dark eyes have a dangerous glint in them, one that speaks of his crumbling control. He leans down for one fast, desperate kiss, and I try to cling on to his bare shoulders, but he pushes himself away from me all too quickly.

Then he grabs my hips with both hands and flips me to my stomach. I try to scramble to my hands and knees, but he gently presses a palm between my shoulder blades, keeping me in place.

His lips brush the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Do you trust me, Violet?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “Yes, but I need—”

“I know what you need,” he growls. “But I want you to be good now. And if you want me to stop…”

He lets the sentence hang, allowing me to complete it.

“I’ll ask you to stop,” I breathe.

“Aye.”

He yanks at the ties at the back of my dress, ripping them apart. Then he tugs the scrunched-up fabric up my body and over my head and tosses it to the side, leaving me in nothing but my undershirt. He leans in to run his nose over my neck and shoulder. The weight of his body over mine is delicious, but I can’t resist the urge to move, so I lift my hips just a fraction so my ass connects with his groin.

His hard cock drags between my linen-covered cheeks, and Marut groans as if in pain.

“Stop it,” he commands. “I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

“You won’t.” I wiggle under him. “I know you won’t.”

His growl reverberates through me, sending me trembling. He’s so much larger and more powerful than me, but right now, I don’t care. As he whips my undershirt over my head and fits his naked body over mine, I don’t care that we’re touching skin to skin. I crave it now, this feeling of closeness, more than anything I’ve ever wanted.

Marut’s warm hands close around my hips, and he urges me up and back so my bottom sticks in the air. Then he moves my knees as far apart as they’ll go, spreading me open. I close my eyes. Embarrassment flares up at the thought of being presented to him like this, but it fades quickly as Marut runs his palm over my pussy, then dips two fingers inside.

Instinctively, I try to roll my hips back and get him to fuck me with them, but my husband only chuckles, then spreads my wetness around my pussy, coating me in it. I turn my head to the side to watch him, and when he wraps his now-wet hand around his cock and gives himself a long, powerful stroke, I know he’s close to giving me what I want.

Finally, he fits the rounded head of his cock to my pussy and slowly pushes in. The stretch isn’t as painful as last night—and I didn’t lie when I said I wasn’t sore. The warm water had helped, as had a good night’s sleep, and now I’m only eager for more.

Marut fucks me with shallow thrusts at first, getting me wetter. The tip of his shaft slides over that deliciously sensitive spot inside me. When I grow slick and hot, he deepens each movement until he seats himself right to the knot. He somehow feels larger in this position, which I didn’t anticipate—I thought each time we make love would be roughly the same, but it seems Marut has more to teach me.

He palms my ass with both hands and spreads my cheeks, then pounds faster, the force of his thrusts shoving me higher up the bed. When I try to brace my hands in the sheets to give myself some leverage to push back, Marut picks me up from the bed and wraps his arms around my body.

I scream as the movement impales me even deeper on his cock. I’m so full of him, my spread thighs trembling. My knees aren’t even touching the bed anymore, but Marut supports all my weight, grinding into me. For a moment, I lament the freedom he had before to thrust inside me, but then he shifts his hold on me and finds my pearl with one hand. His fingers slide over the slippery button, and my eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Marut!” I jerk helplessly in his arms, “This is so…ah!”

The pleasure washes over me, sharp and violent, and I shudder, clutching at his hands. Then Marut comes with a bellow, dragging my hips down on his next thrust so his knot slips inside me just in time to catch the hot rush of his cum. The added pressure tips me over the peak of another climax, and I gasp, my voice stolen from me by the force of the sensations coursing through me.

Marut stops moving eventually, though his cock still throbs inside me, a hard, insistent length buried deep in my body. He kisses the side of my neck, his breath warming my skin. “You’re magnificent. You take my knot so well, Violet.”

I squirm on his lap. “How soon until we can go again?”

I can feel more than see Marut’s grin.

“So greedy for my cum. Don’t worry. I will give you more.”

He tightens his hold on me, then carefully lies on the bed, first on his side, then flips to his back so I’m spread on top of him, my legs on either side of his. I try to rock my hips, but in this position, I have even less leverage than before. I try to sit up so I can ride Marut’s cock, but he won’t let me.

Instead, he brings his warm hands to my breasts and pinches my nipples, hard. I let out a shocked gasp but melt onto him a second later, letting pleasure coil and build in my belly.

Marut reaches down for my pearl and rubs it in tight circles. “Be good for me and stay still,” he murmurs in my ear. “And I’ll let you come again.”

I roll my hips experimentally. “And if I want to move?”

He stops teasing me and traps my arms with his other hand.

I howl in protest, but he merely kisses my temple and waits me out until I relax on top of him. Then he moves his fingers again, bringing me closer to my climax. When I can’t resist anymore, I shift on top of him, and he stops, repeating the pattern until I’m a sobbing, begging mess on top of him.

But at last, he releases my arms, brings both hands to my hips, and drives me down on his knot, sinking into me as deep as he can. My back bows from pleasure. I come, milking his cock, and he roars his release, pumping his seed into my pussy.

Marut shifts us to the side, and I flop on the pillow, limp and spent. He draws my back to his chest and covers us with a blanket. When I reach out, my fingers brush against a book forgotten between the covers, and I smile at the thought of Marut falling asleep here with a book still clutched in his hand. I’ll have to read it to see what he liked so much to bring with him to bed.

“You’re perfect.” My husband brushes his lips over the damp skin on my neck. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“Hmm.” I reach back and run my hand over his hip, then fit it between us so I can cup his heavy balls. “I loved it.” I glance over my shoulder. “I love you.”

His rough exhale betrays how much this means to him. “I love you, too. I never thought I’d find a match this good when I walked into Mrs. Pimms’ office.”

At that, I chuckle. “We’ll have to write to her. Inform her that our satisfaction after marriage is excellent. She’ll be happy to know her success rate remains high.”

“We’ll do that,” he promises. “We might even recommend her services to others from our clan.”

Marut’s knot releases, and he goes to pull from me, but I dig my fingers into his hip.

“No,” I whisper.

He drives his half-hard cock back into my pussy. “No?”

“You made me a promise, husband,” I remind him. “That you’ll stay inside me all night. Or day, as it is.”

“Fuck.” Marut grazes his tusks over my skin. “You need rest.”

I squeeze my inner muscles around his length, making him groan. “No, I need you. I’ll always need you.”

Marut growls and rolls me under him, pinning my body to the sheets. “Then that’s what I’ll give you, little bird. Every day.”