Orc Rebel's Secret Baby

Chapter 1

Remi

Birds scatter from the trees at the sound of my shriek. It’s one of delight, but I suppose birds don’t know that. I can hear their wings flapping overhead as they make a mad dash, but it barely registers in my feverish brain.

“Agrish!” I squeal again. His tongue is sliding across the side of my ear, doing weird things to my stomach. But the squeal quickly changes into a deep, throaty moan of pleasure as he nips at my neck.

I quickly start tugging at my clothes, only taking off what’s necessary. A little more foreplay would be nice, but this isn’t really the time or place. It’s a quickie out in the middle of the woods, so the more elaborate parts will have to wait.

Agrish does the same, unbuckling his pants with frantic fingers. His lips remain targeted on my own, and we never break contact, even as we struggle to undress. It would probably be easier if he took his tongue out of my mouth, but I don’t think I could bear it.

He backs me up against a wide tree trunk. Still plying me with kisses, he pauses just long enough to wrap his pants around the trunk. It provides a slightly smoother surface, so that my back doesn’t get torn to shreds by the bark. A lesson we learned the hard way.

We’re basically experts, by this point. It’s been three years, off and on, of us sneaking around like this. My parents would absolutely flip if they knew.

See, Agrish is an orc. That would probably be bad enough, considering I’m a human. I’m not sure my parents – or most of our settlement - would go for the pairing at all, but it gets worse.

He’s a rebel orc, part of a faction that doesn’t cooperate with the other clans. Humans already tend to be cautious of orcs because they’re strong and don’t always like humans. Opening yourself up to a rebel – someone who can’t be trusted to operate under the current and already shaky agreements that keep orcs and humans peaceful – is just begging for trouble, or at least that’s what my parents would say.

“What did you tell your clan?” I ask as his lips roam across my neck.

He pulls back long enough to flash me a crooked, smug smirk. “I told them I was going out spying. Checking up on things.”

Then he drops to his knees, tugging at the underwear I still wear. “I know what I came here to check,” he teases. “Can I write my report on what’s hiding under here? It would motivate me to get some real work done.”

The underwear rips easily in his hand. “Agrish!” I gasp, both shocked and amused. It’s not the first time, but there’s still a part of me that rattles at the impropriety of it all. I’m a lady, dammit. Just…. a lady who happens to like sneaking off into the woods to get fucked senseless. Whatever, it’s complicated.

Still kneeling, he shrugs his shoulders indifferently. “You shouldn’t have bothered wearing them,” he points out defensively. I roll my eyes and sigh, but it quickly turns to a moan as his tongue works its way briefly across my slit.

Even with the constraints of a secret forest rendezvous, sex with Agrish is incredible. I mean, it’s really mind blowing. I can’t even imagine what it would be like if we had time and space to really explore. If we had a bedroom available, I think the entire house would catch fire.

Of course, the reason we don’t have these things – or a normal relationship – is because we’re not supposed to be together at all. At first, I felt a little guilty about sneaking around with him, but it’s changed lately.

Guilty isn’t the right word anymore. It’s more like there’s a part of me that knows I’m supposed to feel guilty and can’t. What I actually feel is closer to longing, knowing there’s a part of me that kind of yearns for that ‘real relationship.’

It was supposed to be a no-strings, consensual romp in the hay. Just sexual beings who found each other attractive and were having fun. But every time I try to call it off, I end up

I’m starting to actually need him, and like him, and maybe I’m even falling in love with him. And that’s crazy and terrifying and not at all what I was supposed to be doing.

Because how can I make anything real work, with an orc no one can even know I’m seeing? The entire idea is just so absurd. At one point, it didn’t worry me. But then I caught feelings, and now it’s depressing. At least the sex is still good.

I try not to think about any of that as he lifts me against the tree, his strong arms encircling me to ease the height difference. My hands snake across his chest and to his back, enjoying feeling his muscles against my smooth palms. I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him to me.

Why does a bad orc have to look so damn good?

“Ready, baby?” he murmurs in my ear, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Ready,” I agree, already eager for what I know comes next.

It’s not lost on me that he took the time to ask. And that’s part of my dilemma if I’m being honest. I know most people would say that he’s a rebel, and that means he’s a bad orc. But is he really?

I met Agrish for the first time when he saved me from an animal attack. My old settlement had been destroyed by vicious orcs, and we had no safe places to shelter. Exposed to the elements, I thought for sure that I had survived the attack just to die a few days later.

He stepped in and saved me. Rebel orcs don’t necessarily hate humans, they just don’t want to follow the clan rules. There’s something exciting and thrilling about someone who does what they want. A spirit who can’t be tamed, and all that.

It doesn’t make him bad. Does it?

He slides himself inside of me. For the briefest moment, I worry about my mother catching us. I told her that I was going to bed and then snuck out the window. What would she do, if she came into my room and found me missing?

My family has adjusted since the first attack, rehomed, and now living with a smaller orc clan that is accepting of humans. But they’ve never been the same since. There’s a nervousness, a worry that never quite goes away once you’ve been violated like that.

It’s a tough line for humans, because orcs could easily kill us. And yet, we remain dependent on the good orcs, to stop the bad ones. It’s hard to trust them, but the only way to survive.

I can understand my parents' fear and hesitation, I do. A rebel is, by nature, unpredictable. And that’s terrifying to them.

But ever so addictively exciting, for me. And did I mention his muscles?

He slides in and out, slowly at first. Watching my face, he waits for the right time to pick up speed. Like the rest of him, he’s huge, and it fills me in a way that I never thought possible. No matter how many times we’re together, it takes a moment to let my walls stretch to accommodate the massive girth.

Luckily, Agrish is a very considerate partner about things like that. Another thing to love about this orc that I probably was better off not noticing.

After a few slow thrusts, I can feel myself relaxing. This is always the way that it goes – first a tense moment as my body adapts, then I start to feel like a candle melting, languid and boneless.

He picks up the pace, recognizing the reaction. I let out a deep, guttural moan. The pleasure is overwhelming, and I can feel the next stage coming. This is where my entire body feels hot, nerves tingling and on edge. No longer relaxing, this is pure ecstasy.

I curl my fingers into the muscles of his back, fingernails digging in until he grunts in satisfaction. He pounds away, and I’m suddenly very aware of all of the sensations around me.

The feeling of the hard tree, against my back, and the smoothness of his pants acting as a cushion in between. His strong grip. The sun that trickles down between the gaps in the tree cover, and the sound of some small animal rustling in the leaves, unconcerned with our activity.

His long hair is pulled back into braids on the side, but the rest is left down. It swings wildly back and forth with every thrust, brushing across my shoulders and chest. It’s a million little things, none particularly significant on their own, yet all working together to bring me to the edge of a stunning climax.

He leans forward suddenly, pressing his lips to my own with an urgency I can’t deny. I return the gesture, feeling a strange sensation that’s more than just pleasure.

It feels almost like wholeness.

But that can’t be. Because he’s an orc and I’m a human. It’s crazy. Crazy, my mind says, practically screaming to be heard over all the other feelings coursing through my body.

This is wrong! You can’t keep doing this!

And no matter how much my brain tries to insist on it, tries to convince me, there’s another argument that never goes away.

If this is wrong, why does it feel so perfect?