[ Orcs must be different, you're not built to be fucked. He had never really questioned what Sabian said after a couple of brief failed attempts, instead always relegated to doing the fucking after that. He must have been so embarrassed that he let it drop or otherwise Sabian was just that good at playing on insecurities, because Fjord feels as if he was made for this. Thinking about it later, when he can get his thoughts in order, it will make perfect sense that a people so prolific in fucking (when they aren't fighting) would have everything they needed to create an entire subset race, including every incentive to hop in bed whether male or female.
Stretched out on his back in a luxurious sprawl, lips shining with spit from their kisses, he grips the pillows overhead and learns how to work his hips over Molly with each deep thrust so that the little beast in his hindbrain is satisfied by the amorphous notion of being bred. A green thigh curls around Molly's waist to help connect them and Fjord's moans get louder, touched in places no one else has ever been, cock drooling precome on his belly in a steady, sticky line, the downy black hairs on his navel slick with it.
He doesn't know what prompts him to feel his own body and smear that mess upward but he does as one hand releases the pillows, palming his way on instinct up to his chest where he kneads his pecs and rakes his nails over a nipple, whimpering with a need to be touched everywhere. Molly's cock rubs across the bundle of nerves inside him, pleasure twisting and tangling in Fjord's gut so that he loses volume control as he rides him, sensitive and desperate so soon after his first orgasm.
Yours, I'll be yours, he thinks but doesn't say, not wanting to even chance this ending prematurely. ]
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Stretched out on his back in a luxurious sprawl, lips shining with spit from their kisses, he grips the pillows overhead and learns how to work his hips over Molly with each deep thrust so that the little beast in his hindbrain is satisfied by the amorphous notion of being bred. A green thigh curls around Molly's waist to help connect them and Fjord's moans get louder, touched in places no one else has ever been, cock drooling precome on his belly in a steady, sticky line, the downy black hairs on his navel slick with it.
He doesn't know what prompts him to feel his own body and smear that mess upward but he does as one hand releases the pillows, palming his way on instinct up to his chest where he kneads his pecs and rakes his nails over a nipple, whimpering with a need to be touched everywhere. Molly's cock rubs across the bundle of nerves inside him, pleasure twisting and tangling in Fjord's gut so that he loses volume control as he rides him, sensitive and desperate so soon after his first orgasm.
Yours, I'll be yours, he thinks but doesn't say, not wanting to even chance this ending prematurely. ]