Steamy Romance Novel Orc

Dragonmaw men and women readied themselves for battle. Both Hellscreams' and the Dragonmaw's armed forces had been deployed to Bloodgulch to confront the bond elemental spirits and their dark shamans and send them two the world beyond the mortal plane. Trag looked around at all the green and black skin orcs and clinched his blade. There had been some like the Warchief that had made their way through the Dark Portal, but not many were worth much in terms of warriors. As the earth elemental charged him, he grunted, heaving his reaper to the side and preparing to shave the earth bound to not but dust under his boots. Just as his weapon made contact, the silhouette of someone overshadowed as two twin axes cleaved through the rumbler, making it three separate pillars of crumbling earth. Grunting once more, Trag watched the feminine figure stood and walked out of the dust.

"You'll never claim one kill of you keep fighting with such a slow weapon," the lithe green orc shamaness said with a mocking tone as she threw her axebiter past him at a charging cultist. "I know the sons of the Mag'hari have been out of battle for some time, but I hope you haven't forgotten how to swing that thing."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Drannah," he said smugly as she passed to retrieve her weapon. "My axe is perfectly capable of killing far more than your dainty little wood chippers. It most likely has already seen more carnage and split more skulls than yours ever will..." He drew his axe back and cleaved it through an elemental and striking at the shaman of the black behind it. Swing his axe to remove the blood, he shouldered his reaver and started to move forward.

Running up and jumping on his back, the green skin orc purposely pressed her diminutive form against his back and put her blade to his neck, "Do you think me weak because I'm a woman? Or just because you don't know how to use your weapon effectively? Either way, I wouldn't underestimate the Frostwolf clan if I were you."

Her chainmail was fine to protect, but its links allowed the form of the body to be felt. Attempting to keep his mind on the battlefield, he paused, "You intend to put that axe to some use right there?"

He couldn't see it, but Trag knew she had a grin on her face. "Maybe, I haven't decided yet," she said playfully. "Quite honestly, there's bigger and better game out there to hunt." His eyes darting forward, he saw a dark shaman casting something.

"Good!" With a quick forward motion, he flipped her over his shoulder and threw her at the cultist. "I suggest you go 'try' to hunt them. Though I still doubt what those puny axes are capable of."

Righting herself, she dug her heels into the cultist's face, crushing it in to ground under her metal heel. "Fine," she exclaimed, striking off the cultist's head from his neck with a look of disgust. "How about a little wager then? Whoever claims the most heads, wins."

He turned and looked at her blankly for a moment. Her expression was completely serious as she threw her braided ebon hair behind her shoulder pads. Trag huffed for a moment as he turned back to the war, "Fine. But you make a fool's bet."

The battle raged on for hours on end, ending only after the final Twilight's Hammer cultist had added its own blood signature to the crimson dyed earth.

Orcs teamed into the bar at Dragonmaw Port, celebrating their victory. The Highlands was the source of Cho'gall's armies of Twilight, but if all the battles had gone as this one did, they would claim the Highlands for the Horde easily. Trag however didn't share the merry nature of his comrades as he stayed behind at Bloodgulch. Trag didn't feel at ease with the green skins and the Dragonmaw made him feel even more ill at ease. He wondered if it was a mistake for him to have come to the Twilight Highlands.

It was silent as the rain came stream lining up from off the coast washing the blood from the earth. Only the sound of the cascading water filled Trag's ears as he marched out of the fortress into the wild grass scented fields which cut a swath of grey green across the broken and treacherous terrain. After a bit of drudging about, he found himself a newly abandoned dwarf home in the rolling hills and watched the rain come down. His thoughts reeled back to Draenor and how things always ended up seeming to be the same. The fire he had set up did well to keep the house lit and warm as the chill of the rain seemed to push through the battle scars of the structure. Unhitching his pauldrons, he set them by the fire before unlatching his chestguard and doing the same with it. He pulled off the damp black shirt, ringing it out. The fire illuminating all the old battle scars that marred his auburn skin as he laid his shirt out with the rest of his armor to dry. Leaning his head back against a wall, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the fire crackling.

"So this is where you've been holding up, huh?" Trag's eyes shot open and he grabbed his axe as he looked over at Drannah standing at the mouth of the hovel, dripping wet. "You know, if not for the fact that I am a damn good shaman and can find nearly anyone by just listening to the voice on the wind, I'd be really pissed off to have to find your aloof ass."

Trag grunted as he leaned his head back again and withdrawing his hand from his weapon, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the rest of the green skins celebrating your temporary victory?"

Drannah scuffed as she pushed inward, brushing off the water from her armor as best she could. "Oh, don't go back to that. I hate it when you refer to me like that."

"Your skin is green. It's enough." As he finished his sentence, he felt something heavy land by the side of his head. Opening one eye, he found one of Drannah's axes impeded in the rock by his head. "Your aim is off," he said unimpressed. She jeered and looked around the hovel at the dreary view. "What are you doing here anyway?" Drannah snapped her head back and found his glare focused on her.

Smirking, she rose and reclaimed her axe, tugging at it a bit before wrestling it free from its position in the wall. "I came here about our bet."

Trag snerked at her, "Childish as always. You risk yourself to find me here for something so trivial? Go back. I only agreed to the terms so that you'd leave me to myself back then."

An orcish curse was barked from her tusks as she put her axe to his throat, pressing the blade into his flesh, "We've known each other for some time now, so you know I do many things in jest, Trag. But never will you find me joking about the honor of myself or the clan I represent! I offered and took our challenge with all respect I had gained for you. I see it was misplaced, along with the thought of you having any honor."

His eyes where hot on her, locked in a vicious stare with her own. Drawing back her blade, Trag grabbed her by the wrist and slammed her heavily into the wall. He held his large muscular arm to her throat and got in her face. "You see this here," he grunted angrily as he pointed to the large scar on the side of his face. "I got this fighting gronns that attacked a Mag'hari outpost." He raised his neck, revealing an old laceration trailing down from his throat over his collarbone, "I got this from invading demons that we barely managed to survive against. I lost a great deal of friends that week. I have lived my whole life trying to hold on to the last raiments of orc pride, honor, and life since I could hold an axe. So don't you dare walk in here telling me I have NO honor, or so help me, I'll split you from that venom tongue to groin right here where you stand."

"Fine," Drannah said clinching his arm. "You've had a long hard life. But don't you think for one moment that you're the only one!" Putting her boots to his chest, she pushed off of him. He wallowed back a few steps before feeling her spearing him at his gut and sweeping his legs from under him. Dropping down to her knees and squeezing him just below his rib cage with her thighs, she leaned forward and punched him across the face, staring him in the eyes as he turned back to her. She pulled up her sleeve to reveal a massive blacked bite mark, "I got this from a felhunter when I was helping defend Warsong Gulch. The warlock put some kind of hex on me that had me puking my insides for weeks." Lifting her mail tunic, Drannah revealed her abdomen that was full of old arrow head wounds, "These pride marks are from a night elf in Icecrown that decided I was less than a Scourge after I tried to protect him from one." Taking off her tunic completely and throwing it to the ground by the fire, she showed the burn scars just below her rib cage, "This one I got today when some crazy ass flame spirit punched me in the fucking chest. So don't you damn well try to compare sob stories with me, brownie. I'll match you at every turn."

She gawked down at him with an angry fire burning in her eyes; he reciprocated with an ice cold glare, "Fine! You have proven your life is as doomed as my own. How long do you plan to sit on me as you are?"

"As long as I wish," she sneered, not loosening her hold on him. "Nothing you can do about it as you are! We've known each other for what comes to be a year now. I can confidently say you are no match for me. You won't rise from this spot until you submit out loud that I am just a good a warrior as you, if not better. So you are at 'my' mercy... grunt."

The vein on the side of Trag's head nearly burst as he bent upward, "LIKE! HELL! I! AM!!!" The drive to a vertical base came quickly as she felt Trag's muscles contracting against her inner thighs. Drannah found herself slammed back into the wall once again. She had managed to keep a firm lock about his diaphragm as her legs wrapped around him tightly.

She chuckled, "Even like this, you are still at my mercy." Trag grunted as he grabbed her sides and rammed her into the wall again. She groaned in pain as the intricacies of her chain mail ground into her inner thighs, but still she hung in firm. "Hah, forsaken hit harder than that..." Turning, he charged the opposite wall, again causing her to groan out in pain. As they fought back in forth, the dwarven hovel was not the only thing to shake as her groans came more frequent. Each of the rows of chain link ground into her, causing her voice to slightly quiver. With each slam, she felt her leg strength slip a bit more until she ended with her legs loosely wrapped about his hips. Trag's hands planted firmly against the wall on either side of her head. Sweat poured down their skin as they both breathed heavily. The position she was in allowed him to come face to face with her chest. Even in his anger, his body acted hotly on its own accord. "Is that all you got," Drannah breathed with an air of intoxication as she put a finger under his chin, lifting it to look into his eyes. The cold gaze burned brightly as he staggered back and charged forward once more. Blindly, he stepped missing the wall and hitting the staircase. Down the stairs they tumbled, coming to rest with a thud. He weighed down on her, but despite the pain, she huffed with excitement as she let out a laugh.

She looked down at him as he lifted his head from her bosom. He looked around for a moment before staring down at her and her grin. Her scent had risen into his nostrils and he now had a good view of her body without most of her armor blocking his sight. Pulling himself back from her, he growled to himself as he rose to his feet and walked over to the staircase. He looked back at her still laying there starring at his bare back, then back up the stairs, "Go."

"No", she said pulling herself off the floor. "I'm not going until you admit it to me." She moved in closer invading his personal space once more. Her feral scent enveloping his senses as he fought back his body.

"I won't admit anything to you," he growled and turned, glaring down at her. "I—"

"Hush!" She put her hand over his mouth. She could see the fire in his eyes starting to rekindle. She stared into it for a moment before moving her hand and shoving her lips into his. A look of sheer shock overtook him as he tried to back away but she followed and pinned him against the wall. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his own chest as she stared into his eyes. Pulling back, she was breathing long and deep, "One way or another, you're going to admit it to me. 'cause we both know when sunrise comes, I'll be on top anyway." Before he could respond, she grabbed his head and forced her kissed him.

The power she exerted caught him off guard and nearly felled him but he recovered. No longer could he hold himself back. His kiss was not gentle, and she met it with a fierceness that took his breath away. His hand tearing at her holster, she slid her arms out of it and let it fall down over her body, relieving the pressure on her chest and pressing her smooth skin against his own. Her hands managed to trace every scar on his torso as they worked their way south into his pants. He nearly shivered as she took hold of him. The smell engulfed the room as she freed his animal and offered it shelter from the violent storm.

Spinning her around and planting her against the wall, he lifted her off the floor as he repositioned himself with her. He quivered violently as she slid down his reach. Drannah wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder, then his neck, then his jaw. She could not help in making deep purring sounds as he worked at her, pleasuring her with the same vigor he showed on the battlefield. She arched away from him as he nuzzled down her throat, kissing his way to her breasts, capturing one nipple between his teeth, baring down and sucking strongly. She groaned, spasming as he suckled, then turned his attention to the other side, marveling at all her noises and shivering as she clawed her nails mercilessly into his back. He felt the strength of his legs wane as they fell back onto the floor.

Lifting his head from her glorious bosom, she licked the length of his fang before kissing his lips again. Hands on her hips, she moaned, a long keening sound of pure pleasure, as he reached under to tease her button with one long clever finger. Taking her from underneath intensified his need, and she sank deeper onto his length as he thrust hard and fast into her willing softness. She gave as good as she got, hips slamming against his pelvis with every stroke. He moved one hand and grasped one of her breast, squeezing and pinching the nipple. Abandoning her hips, he grabbed both breasts in his large hands, hearing her moan as the pace quickened.

The sweat on her skin made sliding his hands down to her waist smooth and erotic as their pace increased to frenzy. She shuddered as he felt her clamp down on him, this time so hard he wondered if he would be trapped, and didn't care, knowing he'd never get enough of her, never want her any less, always be alert for her voice, her touch, her smell. With that thought, he felt her open to him completely, taking him so deep he couldn't tell where he ended and she began. She arched her back then quick lurched forward, licking the spot where his neck and shoulder met, and baring down, just hard enough to break the skin, kissing away the sting as he erupted inside her. She once again tightened firm around him, then released, caressing in rhythm of his length, moving so seamlessly with him. Her legs nearly gave as she got more than she bargained for. She could feel the blood racing through his veins under his skin, his softening erection retreating out of her. "This means nothing," she breathed. "The sun isn't up yet, I still have plenty of time."

Laying back gazing up at her raw form, he chuckled at her, "Just you try. I won't lose to a green skin like you, Drannah."

"We'll see about that, Trag," she breathed as she readied for their next round of battle.