That evening, whispers of Dagok's name and accusations of monstrous behavior wandered the village. Lyvelle and Anipa exchanged worried glances. They were responsible for their son's behavior and the danger he posed to the tribe's harmony. They readied themselves for the journey ahead.
The next morning broke crisp and clear, and the family set off in similar silence, shouldering heavy packs with determined strides. Each was lost in their thoughts for the first hour of their march through familiar territory. Dagok's senses were keen to his parents' worry and disappointment, shame acrid on his tongue. Venturing deeper into the forest, their surroundings gave way to untamed wilderness, an apt setting for the trial that lay ahead.
Two days passed with little incident, aside from Dagok's returning ardor. The effort of traveling all day kept it at bay. His lustful episode with Orani had provided temporary relief, but now the hunger for pleasure returned to gnaw at his will. As the sun began its descent, casting golden rays through the trees, Anipa chose a place to encamp.
"I will hunt dinner, Father, Mother. You rest here." Dagok offered.
Lyvelle told Anipa. "Gather what you can for our camp, Husband.""But do not stray." I will go with Dagok. We are far enough from the village to be cautious when hunting. We have reached where monsters have not learned to avoid Elves." She took her buckler of mithril and her magically forged, iron short sword and joined her son in the hunt.
She lead Dagok in a widening spiral, their camp at the center. Within an hour they found deer tracks. The young Orc caught the deer's scent mingled with that of a large predator. His senses were entangled however by his mother's presence and the weight of his growing arousal.
A dire wolf suddenly leaped from the brush, catching them off guard.
Dagok's instincts kicked in. He jumped in front of Lyvelle, taking the brute force of the beast's attack on his shoulder. The impact sent shockwaves of pain radiating through his body, but he fought back, sinking his spear into the wolf's chest. The creature howled and fled, the spear pulling blood out of its body, from the orc's unrelenting grip. Dagok, wounded but victorious, collapsed to his knees.
"Son!" Lyvelle tended to Dagok's severe injury with gentle hands, and proud words. "You moved swiftly, Dagok, but I was ready for the beast." She was telling him indirectly that he would not have been wounded if he had let her handle the great wolf. Her scent filled Dagok's nostrils as she wrapped his shoulder. He tried to focus on her speech, but bloodlust, pain, and sexual tension mingled into something almost unbearable.
The evening brought little comfort as they set up camp in the wilds, each lost in their thoughts. Anipa applied healing herbs to a fresh bandage for his son's wound.
Dagok carried his parents' disappointment like a physical burden, despite his mother's praise. He resolved to face his inner demons head-on, for their sakes and for his own. A compulsion for healing sleep saved him from obsession.
The next morning broke with renewed hope, and Dagok's determination ran deep. Lyvelle clapped her son on the back before they set off in pursuit of the deer herd. The animals' scent was strong, and Dagok's eyes pinpointed a majestic stag at the forest's edge. With a well-aimed throw, he felled the creature.
But the kill also stoked the fires of his primal instincts, and Dagok's thoughts turned back to the need for a mate. As they prepared the deer for their journey, Lyvelle noticed her son's distress, his arousal evident. She said nothing, focusing on the task at hand, hoping the adventure ahead would distract him from his desires.
***
Lyvelle efficiently prepared the stag's carcass for hanging. As he hoisted the deer high into a tree, their arms accidentally brushed against each other, and the sensitive tips of Dagok's ears picked up the sound of his mother's startled gasp.
Lyvelle stepped back, her eyes wary at the sight of her son's erection, a sight that simultaneously shocked and aroused her. "You are in need again, Son. I-I can dance for you."
Dagok's pride warred with his desire as he turned away, trying to ignore the hot blood pumping through his loins. Lyvelle, ever determined to help her son, began her seductive dance, her words of encouragement egging him on. "You are strong and noble, Son. There is no shame in relieving yourself of the raw desire in your ancestral blood."
The young Orc's resolve crumbled under the combination of his mother's words and actions. His hands found his thickening member, stroking it roughly as Lyvelle's hips swayed suggestively before him. Her dance was a potent brew of temptation and maternal love. Dagok's senses reeled.
He tasted desire on the wind - his own and his mother's as her movements became more alluring. Lyvelle's words of encouragement turned explicit. "Rub your hard cock, My Son, and pretend I am a dancing whore." Dagok's strokes quickened, the pain of restraint giving way to pleasure. He grunted with each powerful movement of his hand, unable to form coherent speech.
Lyvelle's own desire grew as she watched her son's passionate release, his strong, calloused hands gripping his massive erection. She felt a tingle in her loins, something that hadn't been present for many moon cycles. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of her husband, and she momentarily wondered if her rising passion could ever be shared with him.
Dagok's eyes remained fixed on his mother's dance as he worked his member fiercely, the pleasure building to an inevitable climax. With a primal roar, he ejaculated! His loins shot powerful jets onto the forest floor. He collapsed in exhaustion, and his body trembled long after the intense orgasm.
Lyvelle rushed to his side and checked his injury. The young Orc looked up at her, shame flooding his features - an emotion that Lyvelle couldn't bear to see. She helped him to his feet, her eyes briefly glancing down at his still tumescent member, now slick with semen.
