The walls of the cold, dimly lit hall were filthy, the rough marble covered in black grime and the occasional splatter of old blood. Two orcs sat in a corner on either side of a crude stone table, the scrawny one squatting on an ironwood chest, while the larger, more imposing uruk was fortunate enough to have a stool.
The latter, Gúmbúk was slouched against the table, his brow scrunched over his single copper eye which gleamed in the torch light. He scratched around the bulbous flesh that encircled his pale eye socket; the misshapen, empty hole a contrasting splash of grey against his umber-black skin.
"I told them to start pissin' in the barrels, so we should have the alum in a week. Told the newblood... Smathi, to boil it down. If he don't feck that up, we can have the fort up and as likely to catch flame as the stinking bog itself." Dark red liquid spilled from his mouth as he gulped down the last of the swill in his cup. "Tarks are cowards, anyway. They won't dare show their pretty pink-skins near our door."
The smaller orc, Burkúm, sat perched on his makeshift seating, as his skinny, three-fingered hand stroked the shriveled heads tied to his belt. Snickering, an uneven grin formed on his lips. Half of his pale face had been badly burnt and was left a fleshy mass, torn and rendered from time and abuse. The scarring went so low, it made it impossible for him to fully lift one corner of his mouth.
"If him feck up, him gonna join dah uttahs on mine beltz," he said, his voice a rough, raspy hiss.
A hoarse chuckle escaped Gúmbúk's broad lips. "Thought you were after Shagdul's head."
Burkúm hissed, head jerking up in a quick swoosh that made the long hodgepodge of broken bone and ruined metal hanging from his ears clink together as his good eye regarded his leader.
"He's disrespectful of the crafters, ordering me and Farl to make him shit. Heard he might be plottin' too."
"Plotting? Against who?"
"Otok," Burkúm snorted out, as if it were obvious.
Gúmbúk frowned, sitting up to set his fists on his knees.
"If he does do anything, tell me. I'll deal with him." The tall orc scratched his face, the muscles in his left cheek wincing.
Burkúm hopped off his seat to move his hunched form around the table to Gúmbúk. He straddled his warboss's lap and leaned in close, carefully examining the iron plate that replaced the upper portions of the uruk's nose. His fingers prodded around the damaged flesh, examining the hooks and rivets that held the prosthesis flush against his skin.
"How'z dah new nose on yah?"
Gúmbúk sighed as Burkúm plopped down on his lap, but let him poke and prod at his face without complaint. "I told you, it's fine. It nicks my skin every once in awhile, but it's working."
"Mebbe I needs tah adjust it," Burkúm said, his breath a warm tickle. He unfastened the scaled gorget from his friend's neck, while teasing and gnawing his cheek with his sharp pinprick teeth.
Gúmbúk's stool was fortunately against the wall, so he leaned back, supporting his body with the grimy surface. His dark nails dug into Burkúm's leggings as he pulled him forward, their stomachs touching.
"I said it's fine," he growled.
An insane cackle left Burkúm's lips as his tongue slurped a wet line down the newly exposed neck.
"Den mebbe I'z needah make sommin' tah cover dis hole," he said, hooking a finger inside Gúmbúk's eyeless eye socket, stroking the leathery growth that almost filled it entirely.
The warboss' strong fist snapped around Burkúm's wrist, pulling it from his face.
"Shut up," Gúmbúk sneered. "Lick it."
Burkúm grinned, and set his hands on either side of Gúmbúk's head, holding it still as he slid his tongue inside, caressing and flicking his tongue around the bubbling growth.
Gúmbúk groaned in approval as he busied his hands with unbuckling the leather hauberk hiding the scrawny orc's pale flesh. Once exposed, he dug his nails into the sickly skin around his rib-cage, grinding himself against Burkúm's groin.
Burkúm hissed as ten crescent moons were pierced over his ribs. Removing his tongue with one last upward swish, he bit his way down Gúmbúk's neck, nipping and scratching his dark skin. "Neeeeh... yer not neked enough..." Burkúm tugged at the offending leather and mail, and he sunk his teeth into the flesh above Gúmbúk's collarbone, swallowing the blood that leaked over his tongue.
A roar echoed through the empty chambers, and Gúmbúk was on his feet, shoving Burkúm against the hard stone wall. Their lips met, and though the air was knocked out of his lungs, Burkúm didn't hesitate to open his mouth. Neither were gentle, their tongues and teeth clashing together, drops of metallic blood drawn with each nip and bite. They hastily removed each others clothing; leather, mail, and metal falling to the ground.
Gúmbúk broke the kiss, panting as he groped Burkúm's ass. "Get on your knees and suck me."
