CAPTURED BY THE ORC
Chapter 18: Escort Required
Samson was already awake when the sun came up the next morning. He'd been reliving the events of the past few days over and over, wondering if he would ever see his family again. He thought about his brother, Kane. He could be out there searching for him right now. Samson remembered all the dangers he'd faced in the forest. A sharp pain gripped his heart.
No. There's still hope. I can't give up.
The mattress shifted and Samson rolled over in time to watch his captor stretch nude in the middle of the bedroom. Dalthu's muscles rippled with each bend and twist, his triceps flexed impressively as he reached for the sky. Samson knew firsthand how strong the orc was, but watching him in the morning light, the warrior seemed to have been sculpted from pure jade as a tribute to a deity of beauty. Samson chewed the insides of his cheeks. He couldn't deny it. Dalthu was strikingly handsome.
For a monster.
Dalthu turned suddenly, revealing his impressive nether regions, and locked eyes with Samson. "Ah," he scratched his head apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," Samson replied, averting his gaze. Flashbacks of taking that thick member into his body were all too vivid.
I can't believe that fit inside me.
His captor's brow furrowed and he hurried to Samson's side. "Bad dreams?"
"I just couldn't sleep." The orc's member now bobbed next to Samson's head. Samson covered his face with both hands.
"Is there anything I can do--?"
"Other than putting on pants?" Samson's cheeks burned as he gave a pointed nod toward the orc's swinging manhood.
The orc warrior only then seemed to notice his state of undress. He gave Samson a roguish wink. "Don't stare," he said. "You'll get its hopes up."
"Bastard," Samson hissed before he could stop himself.
"Yes, darling?"
Samson's mouth went slack.
Darling?!
He squinted up suspiciously at Dalthu, but the orc only batted his eyes innocently.
Fine. If that's how you're going to play...
"Jackass," Samson snapped.
Dalthu's reply was immediate. "Precious lovely."
"Shithead."
"My sweet beloved."
"Stinky, flea-bitten mongrel dog."
"Honey dewdrop of joy."
"Bug-eyed, shovel-eared, moss-eating, dick-for-brains brute!"
Dalthu doubled over with laughter as Samson was huffing and puffing. "Haa, oh little tiger," the orc warrior wiped away a merry tear, "I wish I could spend the whole day exchanging endearments." He pulled a loincloth around his waist. "Mother probably won't visit today. Dwarven ale always gives her terrible hangovers."
"That's fine. I'm going out today anyway." Samson got out of the cot and slipped his tunic over his shoulders.
"Truly?" The orc's golden eyes shone with happiness. Dalthu clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Then, ah yes, wait a moment..." The orc trotted out of the bedroom and returned a moment later holding a leather pouch; it was nearly bursting at the seams and emitted the unmistakable clinking sound of coins. He handed it to Samson with a proud grin. "Here, for you."
Samson hefted the pouch in one hand.
There must be nearly a hundred coins! I could buy my whole village with this.
"What on earth do you expect me to do with this?" he marveled.
"Whatever you want, my little tiger."
"Oh?" The corner of Samson's mouth curled up. "What if I want a sapphire the size of an eagle's egg?"
"It shall be yours."
"What about a suit of armor made of gold dragon scales?"
"I will pull them off the the beast myself."
"How about an elvish princess to sing me lullabies every night?"
"What? My voice isn't sweet enough?" Dalthu chuckled. "As long as she learns one or two orc ballads I suppose you can have your princess."
"Silks?"
"Of course."
"Furs?"
"Anything, little tiger. You can buy anything you desire."
Samson squeezed the pouch, feeling the outline of the coins. "What about my freedom?"
The orc's smile collapsed. Seconds ticked away before he finally spoke. "There is no treasure on this earth that would be worth that." Dalthu held out his hand and Samson, thinking his captor wanted the pouch back, held it out for the warrior to take. Instead, Dalthu grasped Samson's hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss against his skin. "You are priceless," he whispered and a thrill ran through Samson.
Don't let him sway you. Remember your goal.
Samson pulled his hand away, but if his orc captor was disappointed he didn't show it. Instead, he ducked down to a trunk next to the bed and pulled out a pair of trousers and a fresh tunic. Dalthu tossed them to Samson. "Meet me outside when you're ready." When Samson didn't move, the orc heaved an exaggerated sigh, the orc heaved an exaggerated sigh. "If you want me to dress you, little tiger, you only need to ask."
Samson's stomach did a little flip imagining those golden eyes watching him change, however, he refused to let it show on his face. He put on his best scowl and whipped the trousers at Dalthu, shooing the orc away. Undisturbed, the orc warrior winked and then stepped out of the room.
Cheeky bastard.
Samson fought back a grin. He quickly pulled on the fresh change of clothes and, still clutching the bag of coins, followed the orc out of the hut.
Daylight stung Samson's eyes as he stepped outside and he shielded them with his hand. Letting his eyes adjust, he finally saw his orc captor was a ways off from the hut crouched down in an overgrowth.
"What's wrong?" Samson tried to keep the worry out of his voice as he hurried to Dalthu's side.
Is he sick?
"Maybe we should go back inside--"
Dalthu stood, revealing a posy of wildflowers in his grasp. The warrior's face was several shades lighter as he held out the small bouquet to Samson. "I didn't get a chance to replace the ones in the vase yesterday," he said. "I thought you might want some fresh ones."
Samson was flabbergasted. Was this really the same orc that beat his enemy to death with his bare fists? This vicious killer clutching a bunch of daisies? Samson cleared his throat. "Maybe another time."
Dalthu nodded. He considered the posy in his hands for a moment, then pulled a single violet out of the bundle of flowers and, slowly enough as not to startle a skittish deer, tucked it into Samson's hair and behind his ear. "Beautiful," he said.
Samson reached up and brushed his fingers against the petals. It was such a simple thing, so why was his heart racing?
The orc turned and walked off toward the other huts. Samson hurried after him, the coins in his pouch jingled loudly with each step. "Where are we going?"
"Since mother is indisposed, we need to find you another escort."
"I don't need one."
"Shakil should be available," Dalthu continued as if he hadn't heard. He quickened his pace and led Samson straight toward a hut that had strings of crimson beads draped in front of the entrance.
"Throm-ka, Shakil, I have a job for you," Dalthu called out as he pushed past the beaded curtain and into the hut.
Hot on the orc's heels, Samson pulled on Dalthu's elbow. "I said I'm fine."
"You will be safe with him."
"Why won't you listen--"
"OHhhH Yes! YES! Right THERE!"
Samson and Dalthu stopped, but the voice didn't. The lewd moans and cries continued to crescendo.
Oh, dear goddess... what should we do?!
The back of Samon's neck felt like it was on fire. He gave a sidelong glance up at his orc companion. Dalthu was trying, and failing, to hide an amused grin creeping across his face.