Warning: This story contains graphic images of slash, male/male sex of a somewhat nonconsensual nature.. If this offends you, if you are under the age of consent in your state or country, or if you still don't know what I am talking about leave. This story is for personal enjoyment only, copyrights do apply, and this original content belongs to me. Do not archive, post to mailing lists or in any other way redistribute any story written by me. The rest of you, please Enjoy.
"Orta" Forbidden Pleasures
Koehlas trimmed the bushes outside his home, the green and purple ones, careful not to thin them too much nor allow them to seep all the nutrients from the soil with so much leafy life. He pressed a hand to his lightly golden forehead to wipe the days sweat from his brow. The day was warm and the breezes few these days. The air smelled almost tired, heavy. It was as if the earth spirits and gods had become angry but not vengeful to cause this unpleasantness during such a season. Koehlas stood gracefully, his fine toned body stretching within his plain attire of tanned hide leggings and a pearly white tunic. His golden eyes took in the site of his budding garden with pride and light sadness. His gifts, his pleasures lay here alone, hardly heeded by any but a stray traveler or curious deer. Still, Koehlas smiled for his unhappiness was hardly consuming, hardly constant. His slightly pointed ears heard a twig snap behind him, under the large weight of the one visitor he had, the one person who came to his small cottage. The elf did not turn, but only let his strong but unblemished hands glide through his short, pure white hair. "I was not expecting you for some time."
"It has been a week," the dark voice proclaimed, so close to him it left his ear warm and let the gardener know his visitor had been drinking.
"Only a week." He voiced softly, as a strong coarse hand went to his neck, the black nails biting lightly into his skin.
"Not all of us let weeks pass by like hours." His companion commented, turning Koehlas around to face him.
Koehlas smiled briefly, trying to be happy to see his lover, Orta. Orta was the same height as he, shy of six feet by two inches. His strong body had a tint of olive green, and was shiny and tight, allowing the muscles and white scars across his arms and back to show with pride. Orta's pride, not Koehlas'; he hated those scars, especially the self inflicted ones. Orta's yellow eyes locked onto the golden globes, his black tongue lightly licking his partially pointed teeth before he spoke again. "Your flowers look nice."
The elf pulled away and shook his head. "They are not properly cared for. The soil here is weak and the sun, blocked by these trees. I do not think I will be able to sell them to even the elven farmers market this year."
Orta cocked his head to the side his strong hands snapping a rose nearby, causing Koehlas to wince as a few drops of red blood fell to the damp ground. Orta's black fingernails traced the red buds before he brought it to his mouth, biting into the large bloom and devouring the beauty. Koehlas merely watched him as he finished the morsel. Orta smiled. "They taste fine." He used his meaty hand to wipe away a bit of blood that had formed from his now cut tongue.
Koehlas turned away angrily. "Why do you do that? You know I cannot stand it."
Orta laughed lowly, cruelly even. "You are moody today. It will make it all that much more pleasant tonight. Come, put your things away. There is an evening beginning as we speak."
The elf shook his head. "I do not wish to go with you tonight."
"I did not ask."
Koehlas' breath caught in his throat. He turned again, looking over Orta, taking in what was before him more carefully... New red scars, some tears in his clothing, blood on the sword, and drinking. Orta had been in a fight. "Orta..."
Orta stepped forward, his fingers gliding along Koehlas' cheek, sending a shiver down the elf's spine.
Koehlas spoke quietly. "If you take me tonight, it will be rape."
Orta laughed lowly. "You are so dramatic, but tell me lover, is that not what you want? Is that not the reason I come here?"
The golden eyes looked to the ground with shame. "You speak to me as if I were a whore," he hissed, regaining his composer quickly. His cheeks burned, but he spoke forcefully.
Orta eyed him a moment and leaned over, his tongue forcing his way into Koehlas mouth, the large tongue strong with wine and invading, but pleasant. He felt Orta's hand cradle his nape and head as the kiss was strengthened, their bodies pressed together with heat leaping from even their clothed forms. Orta pulled away, leaving him breathless, hungry. The dark voice spoke softly. "Not as a whore, but as a lover of a half-orc. Now dress. It is time to go."
With his heart beating rapidly in his ears, Koehlas complied, departing to his house and returning with loose green and brown leggings and a finely stitched shirt.
Orta led them to a small hole in a ground near a large underground river about 5 miles to the east of them. It truly looked as if some wolf or small bear had dug itself a small shelter for the night to any one passed by. Koehlas sighed as Orta took his hand and led them down into the well placed illusion, past the dire wolves and their dark guards and into a place of amusement for the local dark races who did not fit in at or did not wish to go to their races respective home towns. Orta nodded to a few and grabbed Koehlas' hand tightly as he pulled them through the light crowd at the entrance. He closed his eyes and tried to keep up with his quick lover, stumbling over moving bodies and rocks as he did. His golden eyes stayed focused on the strong hand that held him, trying to ignore the piercing gazes and sneers he received. Why had Orta taken him here? Only when he felt the strong hands pull him down onto a firm, yet soft pillow, and an arm went around his waist did Koehlas open his eyes to the entirety of their surroundings. He breathed in deeply and sat amazed at what he saw.
They were seated at one of many large pillow like chairs, all decorated in menacing colors from blood red to sleek black. Couples, trios and single parties lazed around, all gazing at a stage that was held up high on a black and grey alter type setting, a circle of fire around it causing the light to dance of the erotic dancers in the center. A light musky scent accompanied with sleek white smoke that swirled about the wind like a slithering snake. In the center of it all was a dark, one with the deep black skin of an opal and red eyes like those of a lava rock. Her eyes turned to him in almost an instant. Koehlas suddenly felt afraid, out of place, vulnerable. "Orta..." He whispered as he saw more stages around the room that seemed to grow everywhere he looked. Groups of scaly goblins, hairy gnolls, and fierce orcs released their pleasure on willing or unwilling partners. It was hard to say which.
Orta stroked his hair, his other arm around the elf's hips, holding him securely, warmly. "Relax. It is safe here. You are with me."
Koehlas shook his head but did not pull away as Orta kissed his neck.
"Relax," his dark lover voiced again, this time softly in his ear.
The elf closed his eyes and nodded briefly. He took an offered glass of wine and downed a good portion, trying to ease his nerves. Truthfully, this dark, musky place excited him, but his fear, his mind could not let go. He would have to hold onto the fact that he trusted Orta, and he did.
Orta chuckled lowly and shifted a bit, allowing them both to sit more comfortably.
Koehlas took heart and spoke, more strongly and sure than he thought he could manage. "Why here?"
"Here is a mixture of culture and worlds. Much like myself."
"They are regulars then?"
"A few, many simply pass by and know of the place through contacts."
Koehlas nodded but still he was uncertain. He had not gone anywhere with his lover before, not even to an inn to eat or a walk or ride in the forest. It was odd behavior from Orta, and perhaps that was the cause of his unease, more so than this room full of races and those of trades that would sooner wish him dead than sitting amongst them.
Orta spoke softly. "I am going to show you my world Koehlas. The parts you have heard of and those that you have not, perhaps you will know even more than I thought. Do not be frightened. Do not turn from what you do not understand or scorn quickly. Nor should you pretend it does not exist or pull wool over your eyes." Orta kissed his neck again, gently, his strong hands gripping his shoulders. "If you ever become uncomfortable, say 'I choose another path Orta.'"
The elf looked down at his own hands. The hands that used to decorate the very palaces of an elven lord, even create gifts for the royal families and other nobles. All that lost. "I chose you," he voiced softly. "I am not rejecting you now. Why will you not live with me?"
Orta kissed him gently. "You may have chosen me, but with me comes a world that may curdle your stomach my artistic lover."
As soon as the warm but dark words departed from the strong mouth, a low shout was sounded and three orcs, none quiet as handsome or even human looking as his Orta. These ones had darker, rough looking skin with black nails that seemed dirty and their eyes dark with hatred.
"Orta," One voiced lowly, perhaps to loose the growing attention. "Our general wishes to see you, you and your friend."
Koehlas' stomach clenched as the eyes turn to him. "Orta," he voiced uncertainly as he wondered how they would escape this situation.
Orta stood, his strong hands pulling Koehlas up with him. "Very well."
The elf's first impulse was to bolt. Orta was crazy to agree. These orcs, the sworn enemies of his people would kill him if not Orta out right. Orta's gaze, in its strength and steadiness, managed to lock on his. Koehlas saw warmth, love and not an ounce of fear. Trust him! His heart yelled at him. His bottom lip trembled as he moved closer to his lover and laid his cheek on the strong muscled chest. Orta said nothing as he picked up his lover and followed the burly orcs. Koehlas did not pay attention to where they went. He wanted only to listen to the beating heart of his lover, whether it be for the last time or not. The elf did notice the change of air and smell as they left the erotic hidden tavern and entered the forest. It seemed a long time they spent moving through his beloved homeland which was alive with the songs of quiet birds and the bustling of pleasant trees and bushes. Shortly after little drops of rain tapped his forehead, Koehlas was asleep.
Koehlas awoke alone in a large room with strange red and orange lights emitting from what appeared to be mini volcanoes. Still, the area was dark, his eyes barely able to make out the faint mirror and large dark bed tucked neatly in an ominous corner. He stood easily, finding his own body unmarred though a thick, but flexible leather strap grasped his neck firmly. His fingers pulled at the restraint finding it secure though causing no real discomfort. "Orta?" He voiced softly as he walked towards a large wood door, he was stopped quickly as his chain ran to its end. Taking a quivering breath his keen elven eyes continued to explore his surrounding. The floor was smoothed rock but still the raw material. It smelled a bit salty and musky, a cologne of some sort. He moved to the dresser and pulled open a couple of drawers finding strange clothes and ugly bottles housing the musky smell that tickled his nose. His golden eyes rested on a long sleek whip that sported the smoothness and style of a snake.
"He will not use that on us unless provoked." Orta voiced quietly as he stood suddenly from a portion of the room that had looked to be a mirage. His lover was undressed, his olive toned skin gleaming from the exotic lights. Orta too wore a leather collar and chain.
Koehlas went to him hesitantly, his chin lifting as Orta kissed him. "Why are we here?"
Orta smiled briefly and stroked his cheek. "The general has taken pity upon us and though he has decided our relation is not one of treason, he exercises his right to take us as slaves."
Koehlas breathed deeply, pulling away. "Slaves! And you are so calm? He has no right, no right."
Orta took a seat. "I cannot fight off an army Koehlas. I am calm for the matter is out of our hands. His right is the right of power, the command he holds and exercises. He needs no other right here."
"The elven king, he will send troops..."
Orta motioned him forward. "How would you get word to him? And if they came with bloodied swords, how would I have known they did not slay my own kin. Would you send them a letter detailing their appearance or explaining we have not been harmed but to come quickly, unarmed?"
Koehlas took a seat next to his lover. "We cannot be slaves. This is not right."
"Nor is it ever permanent. A few weeks, a month, then he will entertain himself with others."
The elf shook his head, his anger entering his soft voice. "I will not stand for this. He cannot have me. I do not belong here..."
"But I do."
Koehlas turned to him. "You cannot expect this of me. To lie with him, to.. to do whatever it is he wants with me."
Orta stroked his cheek. "I have not forsaken my people Koehlas. They have not forsaken me. You do not belong here, this is true, but I do. Is it so hard to believe I want you with me. By my side?"
"Yes..." he whispered quietly. "I mean. I want to be with you, but not like this, not with..."
Orta kissed him gently. "Slow your heart, calm your body so you may listen to me. You are here but not as I. He will not look upon you as he does me. The general owes me even though, for the time being, he owns me. No harm will come to you."
Koehlas took a few calming breaths and closed his eyes again, blinking a few times as he pulled away and surveyed the area. "What of my home? Who will be there to protect what I have managed to keep of my former self."
Orta relaxed and found a spot to sit on the floor, his arm resting lazily over his knee. "My kin will watch over what is yours. I realize the plants may not survive without proper care, but they will not be destroyed by vandals or thieves."
Koehlas sighed heavily and sat down beside him, pleased that he himself had garments to wear. "Are there many slaves in your world Orta?"
Orta shook his head. "Not really, some of the elites keep a handful but mostly there are caste systems that provide the services needed."
"A caste system? I had no idea orcs were so sophisticated." Koehlas regretted his words the moment his partner's scowl formed.
"Naturally. You really are a snob aren't you Koehlas."
The elf stood smoothly, ignoring the rattling of the chains. "I have come to expect a certain quality of life that is my right Orta. That does not make me a snob." His eyes narrowed briefly. "This is my fault. I somehow managed to loose your respect. It won't happen again."
Orta arose slowly, a bright gleam in his eyes and he laughed lowly. "Is that what you think? I must say that it was most enjoyable to have you in my arms on the venture here, but that hardly constitutes as anything that would cause me to loose respect for you. No, Koehlas, you mistake my reactions."
"Not entirely surprising Orta. The elves teach their offspring they've no need to understand the ways of other cultures for theirs is surely superior." A large orc with a right tattered ear and bald green head entered the area wielding a serrated broadsword and wearing barely treated leather skins. He was large in every feature with tree branch arms, sturdy legs, a thick neck and large belly which was round but did not move like fat.
Koehlas looked at the orc hesitantly, noting just how different Orta looked from this part of his heritage. Taking heart and trusting Orta to his word, that he was not in a hostile environment Koehlas spoke quietly, his chin set stubbornly. "The elves do not have offspring, we have children."
Orta snickered quietly, his strong fingers resting on Koehlas' shoulders. Then his lips dropped to the pale pointed ear as their master's eyes narrowed. "I will pay for that," he murmured softly, in a loving tone that seemed unreal.
"Orta...?" Koehlas turned quickly and was silenced by a warm kiss.
His lover shook his head. "Do not worry. Pain is as much as a part of the orc world as hate. It is the hate I leave behind, the pain I don't mind."
"Very touching Orta. Sickening really, but it is, after all, your words to voice." He moved towards a hallway, motioning his new slaves to follow, after he loosed them from the hooks in the rock floor.
Koehlas thought twice about obeying but Orta gripped his waist firmly and led him on, into the dark warm halls that were thick with the steam of nearby weapon-smiths. Orta's strong, if bare presence held him steady and the elf followed this large orc master through a endless maze of similar halls and rooms full of drinking orcs. Suddenly, he noticed his partner was speaking and might have been for some time.
"You see Koehlas, there are no screams of the dead, no torturous souls or naked starving children running from ravenous dogs.
Koehlas laughed softly despite himself. "Really Orta. I am not so ignorant... not really."
"Perhaps not my pale lover, but I am certain your false images are not as far off from what I just spoke as you would like to think."
His golden eyes lowered slowly as they entered a large bathing room, the steam and smell of cologne nearly overwhelming his eyes. The water was dark though it was difficult to distinguish if the liquid itself was tainted or if its clearness caused the black rock to be seen.
Their master, wasted little time in removing his garments. He unceremoniously dumped them into a pile, his smooth clearly muscular physique openly displayed. Koehlas breathed in deeply as he beheld the thickness of his arousal, surprised that even an orc could move about as if he had no interest at all. The larger orc stepped into the water with a foul grin, his thick digits running over the bald smoothness above. When the water was up to his midriff, their master turned to them. "Orta, bring me that cloth and block of soap."
Orta kissed Koehlas lightly on the shoulder and did as was requested, his chain rattling as he walked down the steps into the dark bath. Without further instruction, he lathered the cloth and began scrubbing the orc's back. They spoke lowly to each other, in the orc tongue, a low guttural sound that the elf regretted he had not taken the time to learn form Orta. He couldn't even tell if they were angry since it was always loud and pronounced. This went on for several minutes it seemed, causing him to feel even more uncomfortable. It was as if he was not there, they spoke and bathed as if this was a normal occasion. His gold eyes closed a moment. And what if it was something an orc would normally do, not just with a slave but with others, superiors and subordinates socializing here when other places it was not possible? His head lifted sharply when he noticed Orta had been watching him for a moment. The facial expression was difficult to read, but it was almost as if he were satisfied. Then, their master stepped out of the water, with Orta following behind him closely, helping the general into a poor quality robe. "Come elf," the large orc voiced.
Koehlas followed behind them, noting there were no others to be seen. He wondered if this was a house of some kind or a private wing. What did an orcish city or house really look like after all. Such a simple fact was never taught in any elven school or written in their books.
They were led into a larger room through a doorway that lacked a door of any kind. This room had a large fur rug, one of bear and lacking the head the human's tended to keep for decor. The bed itself was square, supported by basic wooden legs and thick logs that looked barely treated but bound with some tight, sturdy looking rope. The blankets were woven with colors of red, orange and deep black. On the walls, were supports to display weapons which were oddly empty. A hefty wooden chest with fine black iron hinges and iron support all around sat in the corner, its lock ominous and secure. Simple but effective wooden and clay ware sat atop of few low tables and a handful of shelves. These consisted of a wash basin, bowls, glasses, platters and even a vase of strange dark looking blooms.
"Koehlas, sit on the bed," he was ordered quietly.
The elf allowed his attentions to return to the two other beings in the room, noting that Orta already sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly, still calm and even relaxed. His slanted elven eyes widened slightly at seeing that his lover was aroused as well, not quite like their master but the evidence was clear. It was anticipation, Koehlas realized as he halted his movement forward. By then, he was within Orta's grasp who simply reached out and took his lighter lover's hand, pulling him into a warm embrace and onto his lap.
Orta's strong but gentle fingers traveled over Koehlas' shoulders and down his back, pausing at the base. His firm lips bit at the tender skin of the elf's neck and chin, causing a pleasurable shiver to race through his veins, the drug of desire taking its toll. Koehlas moaned then, arching against his strong, half-orc, lover. "Orta, please," he whispered, vaguely remembering they were not alone.
His lover laughed softly, lifting the elf up with ease and placing him by his side on the bed so their thighs barely touched. "Not so soon my light one." Orta's yellow eyes pierced his own briefly before they turned to the other orc who remained watching in silence.
Again, the two of orc kind seemed to be speaking, maybe even gesturing with the slight nods and the blinking of those intense eyes. If either was true, he could not comprehend the meanings.
The other orc approached, his thick erection moving just breaths away from Orta's face. To his surprise, his dark lover leaned forward then, his black tongue flickering out against the engorged head, even a smile gracing across the lips.
Koehlas held his breath, having not seen his lover do such a thing before. Somehow, he never pictured Orta willing to engage in oral sex with anyone willing. It was then the elf noticed that their master, who must have been taking pleasure from the warm attention was staring at him, expectantly. He swallowed nervously, shaking his head. No, it was not something that was done, it was not proper and certainly not before the gaze of one who was not his lover.
The larger orc narrowed his eyes then and swiftly struck Orta across the cheek, the sound of the impact loud enough to cause Koehlas to freeze.
Orta said nothing, did not flinch, and simply returned to licking the light moisture from the thick rod twitching in front of him. His half-orc lover even moaned and it became clear down below his desire was heightened by experience
Koehlas saw the orc's eyes narrow again and knew that this master would strike his lover again if he did not comply the second time. The elf was torn, not sure what to do, not wanting Orta struck even if he somehow received pleasure from it. His golden eyes closed briefly, trying to comprehend what this all meant but grunt from the large orc told him he didn't have time to contemplate at all. Gracefully, he stretched slightly across Orta's form and moved near the other's groin. It was surprising to realize that this orc had an oddly attractive musk around him, not at all as unpleasant as the warriors the elven fighters occasionally battled on the surface.
With a deep calming breath, Koehlas tasted the orc member, tentatively. The texture was slick though slightly rough, not an entirely unpleasant combination. He felt Orta's warm arm wrap around his waist warmly as the elf explored the hardness, moving further down the shaft to the hairless sacs. Nothing about this orc seemed small, which was as exciting as it was fearful.
Their master groaned loudly, a low guttural sound, as his thick fingers grasped Koehlas' white strands tightly and pushed his head back. A light surprised gasp escaped his lips as he felt the orc shift and move forward, the hot organ rubbing against his cheeks and lips slowly.
Orta then moved away, making the elf feel abandoned, even panicked though it did not last long. His lover's fingers drifted down his thighs and to his own light member as the half-orc positioned himself between the strong elven thighs. Koehlas was not prepared for the intense heat and moisture of his lover's mouth that surrounded his hardening member. He gasped loudly, the fear of being immobile lifting slightly. While in the throws of surprised pleasure, their master suddenly thrust forward and buried his organ deep into the elf's mouth.
Koehlas tensed, trying to pull away but the strong hand held tight to his white mane as the orc began to thrust in and out. He could hear Orta, who had stopped momentarily, speaking to the other though it was hard to judge what was being spoken. The result was that their master's grip loosened and the thrusts became more careful. The elf could feel his lover's attentions return to his own hard desire, Orta's fingers caressing the inside of his thighs. "Koehlas," Orta finally whispered, relax.
He shivered lightly as the dark tongue worked its way briefly into the tip of his shaft, his own tongue moving around the thick hardness pulsing in his own mouth. The taste of the orcs fluid was strong but not foul, almost intoxicating. Koehlas found himself moaning lowly, sucking on the orcish member as his own hips began to move eagerly with Orta's attention. His light fingers grasped Orta's dark strands tightly when the half-orc began to take him deep down the powerful throat. His senses felt overwhelmed, his mind focusing on the forbidden pleasure and excitement of the raw union even when the large orc began to descend down his throat carefully. His fingers left the dark hair of his lover and moved to the hot groin pressing against him, his golden eyes wide as the incredibly large member eased further down, the elf's presses against the huge orc seeming to only heighten the orc's pleasure. The rough dark green hands stroked his forehead and cheeks as Koehlas tried to swallow, causing shudders of pleasure and loud moans from the orc. His panic would have risen if Orta was not so near and nipping at his own elfhood, the dark tongue maddening with its thoroughness.
Then, the orc tensed, his member twitching lively in his mouth just before it released its stored seed quickly. Koehlas moaned lowly, feeling the hot liquid race inside him, not even trying to resist when the orc pumped his mouth a few times as he emptied his sacs. The orc moved back, leaving the elf feeling abandoned as he licked his lips, still confused but in need, Orta's light attentions barely satisfying his wanton desires.
As if on cue, Orta licked his light member once more and then covered Koehlas with his olive green body, pushing the elf back against the bed roughly as the dark nails of the half-orc's hand traveled the length of the elf's member and teased its tip. Koehlas moaned again, his sound captured by Orta's greedy, seeking mouth, the black tongue exploring his sore mouth eagerly, their tongues dancing around as each tasted the strong liquid of their master. "Orta," Koehlas managed to gasp as the orc threw his legs open and positioned himself to enter the hot haven.
Orta's yellow eyes, glazed over in desire and want, peered down at him as his hard head pushed into his elven lover's opening. Koehlas tensed, caught in the spell of that gaze and the driving want of his own body. He did not even object when the half-orc pressed in gently and then simply plunged into the claimed treasure with one smooth motion. Koehlas arched quickly, crying out lightly as his fingers grabbed the olive green shoulders tightly with a soft whimper. The heat and the pain was an incredible mixture, one that reminded him of the first time he and Orta met in the gardens of Koehlas' last lord. The half-orc began to thrust into him strongly and swiftly, forgoing the gentleness that usually followed the initial penetration. The elven gardener pressed his head back against the bed, gasping and moaning in surprise and pleasure, both heightened as he felt a large powerful hand wrap around his member and begin to pump the elf rapidly.
Koehlas tossed his head back and forth, moaning, arching with each thrust and pump, until he found himself teetering on the edge of release. His golden eyes shot open quickly as he felt tiny pointed teeth sink into his light member just before the large mouth sucked the tip strongly. His seed was freed as his golden eyes, wide in disbelief, pleasure, and hot pain gazed up at Orta's face. The half-orc had his eyes squeezed closed, seemingly lost in his own world of pleasure and delight, his hips working powerfully as he rode his elven lover with a new fierceness. The half-orcs eyes finally opened as the strong olive green form paused and tensed, the yellow globes primal as they looked down at his light lover. Then, Orta plowed into Koehlas firmly, his mouth dropping to the elf's neck as he released a powerful load into the hot body. The last thing Koehlas remember was being bitten by his beloved dark lover...
Koehlas awoke with a light moan, his eyes closed as he felt a cool damp cloth travel over his body.
"Open your eyes," Orta whispered quietly, an uncertainty coloring the deep voice that was not familiar.
The elf obeyed, his eyes blinking a few times before he focused on Orta's anxious face. They were alone, he realized, almost at once, and no longer in the orcish realm. He sat-up, ignoring Orta for a moment as his fingers drifted to the tiny little pricks on the side of his neck and the dull ache down below. His fingers then lifted to Orta's cheeks. "My beloved," he managed to whisper, his confusion still evident.
The half-orc took his fingers and kissed them gently. "There is no permanent damage nor will there be scarring. We orcish lovers have been doing this for years, our remedies are flawless." His dark lover hesitated then, as if he were choosing his words careful which was not like Orta all. "You did not choose another path..."
Koehlas moved closer, puzzled by the words though he managed to smile. "I am not certain what you mean. The experience was frightening and for a time, I was not sure I knew who you were." His golden eyes looked around the elven bedroom noting there were a few new items there, including a darkly stained chest, a handful of orcish weapons and... a pile of Orta's garments. The elf almost forgot to breathe. "Orta... you have, you have moved in?" He questioned excitedly.
Orta smiled fondly, turning the elf to face him. "You have much to learn about me, but there is hope. You did not turn from me, you did not choose another path." This time his dark lover emphasized the last words very carefully.
The elf shook his head, standing smoothly, his voice almost as light as his heart. Orta was staying! "I do not know why you keeping saying that Orta. Choose another path? What does that have to do with..." His voice trailed off slowly, and Koehlas felt a knot form in his stomach. It couldn't be. That entire experience, the orc, their chains... He turned to his lover again, and the confirmation in the yellow eyes made his knees go weak. "You mean that whole thing. You, you tested me?"
Orta moved to his side carefully, offering his support but not enforcing it at he usually did. "I told you I would show you my world. The experience would have been mute if you had known the limits were set by me and not my kin so quickly. You would have rejected everything without giving any of the new a chance because that is what you were raised to do."
Koehlas shook his head in disbelief though he chose to accept Orta's offered arm. "But he struck you, and he, gods Orta he bit me!"
His lover chuckled softly. "So did I." The strong olive green fingers lifted the elf's chin gently. "I know that you felt forced, that you were frightened, but fear and force is as much a part of the orc world as anything else. Most of the surface dwelling races cannot accept our ways without being coerced into them." The low voice paused. "I gave you a way out because I love you, and I knew if you were truly panicked if everything inside you rejected what we were doing, your mind would have realized I was in control. Then you would have had your option."
Koehlas took a deep breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the gaze. "And if I had chosen not to participate... you would have left me then?" He was crying then, despite the strength of his voice and his body. Still, the elf hated himself for it, especially when Orta kissed him tenderly and Koehlas didn't even think to pull away.
Orta smiled sadly, though the shine and confidence of the yellow eyes returned. "No, never. We would have realized our limits and proceeded from their. Koehlas, my beloved, it is not in my power to simply walk away. You have my heart."
The elf remained quiet for a few minutes, listening to the heartbeat of his lover, his pointed ear pressed firmly against the strong chest. Finally, his quiet voice managed to speak. "I wish to hear you say it Orta."
Orta's strong, large fingers traveled through his white strands as the half-orc spoke, the smile evident through his words. "Koehlas, I love you, and am moving in." The declaration was almost a demand, almost.
Koehlas smiled. -Please let me Know what you think- Paladin
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