Chronicles of Lazdormu(IC closed for Sinister Spiders)

Warchief Thrall

Thrall felt his stomach drop at the mention of friends. Only recently he led an attack on his old prison camp to release many of his fellow orcs. Not long after he rescued his father's long term friend Grom Hellscream from execution. They elevated him to the status of Warchief and though he didn't want the title he knew the responsibility he had to his people. A responsibility he'd failed at, there was little chance that any of them survived the storm, even the mighty Hellscream.

"I doubt any of them lived after that storm, I always respected the spirit of nature but they taught me a valuable lesson that night."

Thrall tried to keep his thoughts away from his past failings it wouldn't help him now and army or not he still had a mission. The prophet urged him to travel west to save Azeroth and a task like that was not something he would ignore. Remembering the answer to his question Thrall pondered her response, if she was from Stranglethorn it was likely she was either a trader, pirate or at least associated with one of them. If any of them showed up Thrall wasn't in any condition to fight.

"What about you, do you think any of your crew made it to shore?"
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

When the question was turned on her, Jaina felt the same emotions assault her as the ones that flitted through the orc's kind eyes.

"No," Jaina looked away for a moment. Perhaps she should have lied, perhaps she should have made it out as though another ship was on its way... But she wouldn't survive with her leg the way it was. In a way, she actually needed him. "They're strong swimmers but that storm was something else. And the maelstrom... I don't even know how I got out alive."

Jaina looked down at her broken leg and then back up at the orc.

"Well actually, I do. If it weren't for you I would probably have died of exposure. Thank you again," Jaina looked away as a flush of gratitude crept onto her cheeks. She knew she had spoken honestly, and part of her was ashamed that she hadn't known better, that she hadn't fared better. "My name is Emilia." She provided the fake name with a genuine smile. She knew she couldn't afford to be honest with him. Even some of the kindest souls could be turned with enough incentive.

She wondered at her impulsive idea to share more (albeit fake) information about herself with her captor. She thought that getting to know her a little might make it harder to kill her if the time came, but she also knew that it meant keeping up a pretense that could get complex.
 
Warchief Thrall

Emila as she called herself seemed to be in much the same situation as he was, stranded and alone. Well not entirely alone but without friends or comrades, he held is hand out to her as was the customary human greeting when meeting another.

"Well met Emila, I am Grok."

Another breeze rolled through the cavern causing the wall to wail ominously, the storm was picking up and with his keen senses Thrall knew it wasn't going to die off tonight. The temperature was dropping by the hour and even with his thick skin Thrall couldn't shake off the goosebumps forming on his green skin.

"It looks as if we are stuck here for the night. At least the company is good." He joked. Not entirely sure he added the last part, there was no need to be friendly with the human but she reminded him so much of Taretha that he felt compelled to converse with her.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina shook Grok's hand with a genuine smile. This orc was certainly a curiosity; well versed in both human language and and customs. As the wind howled outside and the storm began to truly batter their hovel, Jaina realised that they were well and truly stuck. Looking around she noticed that there were no provisions for fire, and she could already feel the chill of the storm invading their sanctuary.

She was tempted to ask Grok if he had enough magic left for a fire. After a moment of considerations he squashed the idea; the fire would alert any of his comrades that had survived, or perhaps some other unknown enemies would locate him. They were sheltered from the brunt of the storm, and it wasn't so cold as to risk exposure.

But it would be an uncomfortable night.

Several needs warred for Jaina's attention at that point; warmth, sleep, food, knowledge. She desperately wanted to know if any of her people had survived. She wanted to know where she was. She wanted to know more about this odd orc that had gone out of his way to rescue her.

"Where did you find me?" Jaina asked, looking up at the pensive being.
 
Realising there was no point in standing around anymore Thrall knelt down next to his new companion. It felt odd calling someone he'd only just met a companion but the way they conversed felt so natural and calming.

"I found you on the shore not far from here. At first I thought you dead but when I got closer I realised that life still coursed through your body."

At his last comment he couldn't help but look down upon her frail human body. From what he'd learned in his time as a slave human bodies were less resilient that orcish their skin was thinner and softer and their bones more brittle. Orcs were naturally tougher, stronger and had a bloodlust for combat. Any other would consider all off these to be perfect traits but Thrall thought differently, for he had learned that it was their very bloodlust that led their people to ruin. Long ago they were a less war like race and held a deep connection to the spirits, it was this shamanistic teaching that he wanted his people to learn once again.

Though her body was broken and battered Emila was strong nonetheless, it wasn't physical strength that kept her alive, it was the will to live. It was this tenacity of the mind that allowed the humans to overpower the battle crazed orcs in the first wars.

There was something else also in her eyes, a burning intelligence that studied him deeply, as if she was calculated every move he made, every word he spoke. He found himself oddly attracted to this quality, while most other orcs valued strength and power Thrall preferred wisdom and intellect and Emila was both. Perhaps it was the weather or the recent turn of events but Thrall cared for this girl more than he should and made a personal pact to keep her alive.

"We should get some rest, we will need the energy in the morning." Thrall grumbled.
 
Last edited:
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

It made sense to Jaina. Somehow she managed to wash up on the beach. Perhaps the ship managed to travel a decent disatance away from the maelstrom before sinking. She didn't know. The storm made it difficult to tell. Whatever happened, she was still glad to have survived.

"You're right," Jaina sighed, stiffling a yawn. She relaxed back onto the rough cave floor and looked at the roof in the fading light.

The orc seemed nice enough, but she still wanted to be cautious. She wanted to stay awake for as long as she could, to keep herself safe. Her body had other ideas. Exhausted from her trip and her injuries, she quickly fell into an easy slumber. Her dreams were plagued by rain, waves and the cold vastness of the ocean. The chill of the cave didn't help her at all, and she tossed and turned, struggling to retain whatever warmth her soul could generate in it's state of depression.
 
Thrall inwardly commended Emila's ability to maintain consciousness, Thrall had spent many years under the tutalage of ex-veterans and scholars all the the efforts to make him a better gladiator, what is gave him was a better insight into reading others, especially humans. What intrigued him and worried him was the skill that some humans had to only show the part of themselves they wanted people to see.

His childhood friend Taretha was especially good at this, fooling Aedas Blackmore Thrall's original slave master into thinking her a willing and attentive mistress. She put on a mask to hide her true intentions and it was this skill that helped him escape from Durnholde.

Emila was definitely one of them and so was he. They were both hiding something about themselves and rightly so, neither of them knew anything about each other and it was probably better that they didn't. Thrall waited until her breathing slowed before he turned to his side and laid down. The pain in his side made it difficult get comfortable, part of him wished he'd saved some of his magic to heal himself but alas he would have to put up with it.

Emila began to toss and turn in her sleep. In her condition it was dangerous to move to violently he turned back to check on her. She was only in a light sleep and the cold was making it difficult for her to relax. Something overcame him at that point, whether it was the spirits of nature or his own compassion he would never know but Thrall didn't hesitate as he shuffled closer to the flailing human and took her in his arms. Thrall was worried that she would fight back and try to beat him away, not for his own safety but for hers, any strenuous movement would only injure her further. To help allay her fears he whispered in her ear using a deep calming voice.

"Shh, keep close it would not too us well to freeze to death."
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina's dreams faded away into placid black unconsciousness and her body relaxed.

Then she felt an unexptected warmness running the length of her back. Her eyes snapped open and she turned her face to see that the orc had wrapped his arms around her, his warm body heating the length of her own. A gasp escaped her lips and she reflexively puled away from him slightly.
 
Last edited:
Warchief Thrall

Emila tried to squirm away but Thrall kept his arms stiff around her, he knew if he tightened his grip it would only make her panic even more. Despite the inappropriateness of his actions he felt it his duty to keep this woman alive even if she detested his touch.

"Please calm yourself Emila. I only wish to keep you warm, if you fight me you will only hurt yourself further."

Thrall didn't have enough magic to warm her directly but he could raise his own body temperature enough make his body a more welcoming presence.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Grok's voice was croaky with sleep, but his arms were firm around her, pinning her in place. Jaina stopped struggling and took a deep breath.

Grok had been nothing but kind to her. If he wanted to harm her or take advantage of her, he'd had many opportunities. She thought of his words and realised, in the slight chill of the morning, that he was the only thing keeping her warm. Her own body was still recovering from injury, and it was having a hard enough time healing, let alone keeping her warm.

"Thank you," Jaina said, albeit warily. She relaxed into his oddly platonic embrace and calmed herself.

It wasn't all that long ago that she had accepted the embrace of another, yet in a more intimate fashion. For a moment her mind threw her violently into the past and she had to struggle to maintain her composure. She though of Arthas, her first and only true love, and she thought of his betrayal and the mass murder he committed. She her breathing became rapid and she could feel the emotion threatening to overwhelm her.

Though as much as Jaina wanted to grieve for the loss of the man she knew, this was not the time. She pressed further back into Grok's embrace and used his warmth to center her thoughts.

"You didn't happen to see any blankets washed up on the beach did you?" She asked, closing her eyes and trying to relax.
 
Last edited:
Warchief Thrall

When Emila relaxed in his arms Thrall felt confident enough to pull her closer. Due the the state of their ruined clothing parts of their uncovered skin touched almost intimately. Now that his immediate concerns for her well being were no longer an issue he became more aware of her scent; Sea water and Peacebloom. Pleasing yet not over powering. Orc noses were particularly sensitive and human nobles tended to wear an offensive amount of scented goods to better improve their attractiveness. Her skin slowly warmed at his touch and his own body was beginning to react.

Thrall's intentions to simply keep her warm were slowly transforming into something else. It was a foreign sensation to him and something he wasn't entirely comfortable with. All his life Thrall had fought and studied, he only knew how to be a warrior and military tactition, though he'd observed the way humans interacted on a more romantic level he never considered it something for himself.

There was certain that Emila would not appreciate any unwanted advances on his part whether intentional or not. He used a technique he'd taught himself long ago to suppress any primal urges he might feel. After a short moment of meditation he was able to better focus on what was needed. Rest. When she asked her question he couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

"I'm sorry I didn't see any on my stroll along the beach. Rest now, we will talk in the morning."
 
Last edited:
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina woke the following morning it was to the filtered morning light and the smell of damp dirt and windswept beaches. A cool breeze played through the cave, stirring the air and sending a shiver of surprise up her spine. She sat up, looking around, to see that she was utterly alone. She would have been more excited about this, but as soon as she sat up her leg smarted and she knew instantly that she wasn't going anywhere.

Grok was out; Jaina wasn't sure for how long or where he had gone, but she knew she had to act fast. Luckily, his healing of her had freed up her own magical reserves and allowed her body to replenish the energy she'd lost fighting for her life. Even though she was nowhere near full strength, she knew she had enough to put some basic wards on the cave.

In addition to using her most subtle and simple spells, Jaina also had to use ones that wouldn't rouse suspicion if she was interrupted. She sat up and slid until her back was against the gritty cave wall and she begun to chant the spells under her breath. Her eyes were trained on the entrance to the cave and her senses were alert for any change that would indicate the return of the Orc.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall was up just before dawn, the ache and pains in his body told him he needed more rest but the growl in his gut demanded breakfast. His arms were still secure around Emila in the morning and her steady breathing was a good indicator to her health.

Thrall skillfully excavated himself from around her and carefully made his way to the cave entrance. The storm had completely dissipated and the glow of the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky. Thrall looked back at the sleeping human, he wasn't happy about leaving her there alone but he needed to find food if they were going to survive.

Thrall cast a simple but effective sentry totem. It was an invisible ward that would allow him to see what was happening outside the cave whilst he was gone. Thrall closed his eyes and listened with his other senses, being a shaman made him much more attuned to the natural elements and thus gave him an advantage when navigating unfamiliar terrain.

The spirits offered him several options and he chose the most convenient. The spirit of water guided him further down the shore to a small inlet that fish often found themselves trapped in. Thrall silently thanked the spirit and with practiced reflexes he fished out two of the trapped fish.

Thrall made his way back to the cave to see that Emila had awoken. With the light now streaming into their little cavern he could see the colour returning to her face. It pleased him more than was necessary that she was healthy but Thrall pushed those thoughts aside. Survival was always better in numbers.

"I have caught some breakfast for us. I hope you like fish."
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina was finished laying the ward around the cave and one on herself by the time the orc returned. Her stomach grumbled when she saw the fish he was holding in his large hands, and she couldn't help but grin at him.

"I grew up in Booty Bay," Jaina said with a nod of thanks, "Fish is my life. Would you like some help preparing and cooking them?"

It was the least she could do. As the orc made his way over to her she found herself thankful that, of all the possible inhabitants on this land, he had found her. They were able to speak the same language, and he seemed to be genuinely kind. She didn't know if, or how long, it would last, but she was thankful for every moment of it.

Grok went out to get some fresh water whilst she was left to take care of the fish. After it was cooked they ate together in companionable silence. After Grok's healing, a long rest and some fresh fish, Jaina was feeling much better. Her leg still smarted, her skin was still raw, but she was regaining the strength of mind that had taken a severe battering of the storm.

~*~

During the afternoon Grok settled himself into a restful state that, to Jaina, looked like some form of meditation. Even though he was still there, Jaina felt as though he was also giving her some privacy. She had never been one to meditate, her mind always on the go, so she closed her eyes and rested. She was normally far too busy for naps, but with her injuries she needed to be considerate of her mind and body.

The evening meal went much the same as lunch. Grok happy to let Jaina take care of the fish he'd caught while he ensured that they had enough fresh water. They discussed mundane topics such as favourite foods, places traveled and favourite past times. As the sun went down the chill of the evening began to set in and Jaina smiled at Grok.

"I am guessing that you didn't find any blankets out there again today," She joked. "In your travels tomorrow it might be worth combing the beach. After two shipwrecks we are bound to have something was up. You might find a sail or some rope or something else we could use."
 
Warchief Thrall

Despite only knowing Emila for such a short time they had already slipped into a comfortable routine. He was pleased that she was adept at cooking fish, Thrall had found some driftwood on his venture and she lit a fire with very little effort.

She was no longer afraid or weary of him healing her after lunch and he was satisfied that her natural healing was well and truly helping her along. Thrall found it ironic that in an attempt to escape the trials and tribulations of living under human rule in the Eastern Kingdoms he would find himself ship wreaked with one.

By now he knew she was more than just a simple deck scrubber, her knowledge of the world and the way she perceived it denoted an intelligence he had always suspected. Though conversation came freely he found himself straying away from certain topics and could sense her doing much the same.

Her mention of blankets made him think of the woolen sheepskin coat that Taretha had made for him during the winter season.

"I'm afraid not, it is odd that with two ship wreaks all that was washed up is broken wood. Alas we will have to use each other's body warmth again." Thrall joked; though he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of her small frame curled against his own for another night.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina laughed at Grok's comment.

"I'm not entirely sure that you would tell me if there was something else," she teased lightheartedly.

Jaina sidled closer to him and looked at the fire longingly. It had been such a luxury for the evening, but she knew that keeping it going may provide danger to them. She reached out and splashed just enough water over the fire to douse it to embers and then settled herself onto the ground. As she lay down, she turned her back to him and then pressed up against the outside of his legs gently; enough to let him know that she was willing to resume the sleeping arrangements of the previous night, but not enough to actually get any true warmth without his permission and assistance.

"You better not spoil me too much with your warmth; the time will come when we won't be in this cave and you wont be there to warm me and then what will I do?" She mumbled with a tired yawn. Once more she was joking, but she knew it was the best way to build a rapport with him. She couldn't tell him the truth of her life, but she could allow him to taste her personality. A personality, she hoped, would inspire him to continue to aid her until she was able to fend for herself.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall offered a chuckle in response to her banter. Thrall could hardly keep his eyes open and sure enough he was fast asleep. His dreams were a mix of storm and fire, death and destruction and suddenly life and love.

Thrall woke with a start unlike the first night his dreams felt more vivid and real. The memories of the day earlier flooded back into his mind and the pleasing scent filling his nostrils reminded him of the new friend he'd made. Before he could get too comfortable a hardness between his legs gave him pause. Slightly embarrassed, Thrall pulled his hips and morning erection back from Emila's soft and welcoming backside. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.

He tried to will his overnight arousal away but it refused so he elected to get up and start the day.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

That night Jaina dreamed of Arthas once more. It was a torturous way to spend her night times; a way that her conscious mind teased and taunted her desire for rest. She couldn't rest when she thought of him, and her inner turmoil causing her emotional conflict to turn her night more stressful than her days.

It was a source of great sadness and disappointment for Jaina. She loved Arthas with all of her heart and had for a long while. Even though the initial disappointment of not being able to wed him still stung, it didn't matter when they spent time together. They had still loved each other, and they had known that enough when they were together. Despite that, recent events had caused Jaina to question her love for a man she thought she knew. He had destroyed hundreds of innocent people at Stratholme. She had tried to reason him away from it, she had tried to make him see the moral trespasses; and when that hadn't worked she'd tried begging. She'd told him that there were some things that she couldn't forgive and he had made it abundantly clear that he asked for no forgiveness.

Jaina's confusion about her feelings towards Arthas played out in tangential and surreal dreamscapes. Her mind flitted about from recent events to her very first memories of Arthas. From there they twisted and turned, initially vaporous but then more and more real as her body remembered the feel of his touch. It had been too long since she had felt it; felt it without the desperation or pressures of their battles. She longed for it again, for the comfort and the feeling of love.

But, as they always do, the dreams faded. Jaina slowly struggled to consciousness to feel a warm body pressed against her back. It was larger than she had expected, firm and smooth in ways she didn't expect. Then, she remembered who it was. Jaina's cheeks colored as she realized that her dreams had been less than innocent, all whilst in the arms of a benevolent stranger. A stranger who gently extricated himself from her before she had a chance to fully comprehend the various points of contact that they had shared to keep themselves warm.

"Morning," Jaina said, sitting up. Her barely healed limb sent bolts of pain shooting up and down her right hand side. She winced involuntarily, knowing that it would still be a day or two before she was able to move around. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Jaina looked up at Grok and smiled at him. "Sleep well?"
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall was hoping that he'd be able to slip out before Emila awoke but now he had to have an awkward conversation with his front half turned away. His morning hardness had not yet calmed down and the loose clothing did little to hide it.

"Good morning to you. I slept...well. Now I shall fetch us some breakfast."

Though he knew it was rude he continued out of the cave before she could reply. Thrall placed another sentry totem up before getting some more fish for breakfast.

The next few days continued on in much the same way. Thrall would get them food, Emila would cook and he would tend to her wounds. Luckily for him his own injuries were healing relatively well on their own. Emila was beginning to hobble around on her own now and she joined him one morning for a fish. On that morning they were discussing the movements of the tides, a topic she was very familiar with.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a sailor Emila. My knowledge about the seas is bound to the elemental power of water. On that note it appears our fishing spot is beginning to run dry. Only the smaller fish seem to be coming through and with respect to nature I'd rather not be greedy. Tomorrow I will venture inland and commune with the spirits of the earth."
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Mornings seemed to be an odd time for the Orc. After getting used to his solid presence and warmth throughout the night, Jaina found herself waking in the morning cold and alone. On the first morning it had concerned her, but she soon learned that he liked to go fishing in the mornings. As her body was healing she found she had more and more energy and didn't require as much sleep. So it was, after several nights, that Jaina woke when he begun to stir. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady and then took solace in his steady breathing. As he shifted against her she felt his well built body, but lower, she felt a hardness that was oddly suspicious. She wondered at it for a moment, then thought back to the first morning they had spent together and his speedy exit from the cave.

"Grok," Jaina mumbled, sitting up as he made preparations to leave, "Let me come with you, I need to get out of this cave."

The reply from Grok was more of a grumble of assent than actually permission, but when Jaina got up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and exited the cave she found him waiting outside for her with a smile of greeting that was at odds with his initial awkwardness.


Jaina enjoyed their fishing trip more than she had initially thought. Outside the dank and constrictive confines of the cave Grok seemed happier, more open. They talked so much that Jaina wondered whether the fishing spot had indeed run dry from over fishing, or if their constant chatter was scaring the scaly creatures away.

"Would you mind if I came inland with you tomorrow? I think my leg is up to it, and I need to start using my body again before it wastes away."

~*~

That evening, in the cave, Jaina realised that she had stopped seeing Grok as an orc or a threat. Somewhere between the healing, sleeping and fishing she had come to think of him as a friend. Granted, they hadn't known each other for very long but there seemed to be things that transcended the passing of time. Their situation was odd indeed, and the intensity made her feel closer to him than she would otherwise have.

Jaina enjoyed his company also; he was kind, friendly, and he teased her with just the right amount of wit. He was never rude and seemed to have such a calm nature that was at peace with the world. They had strayed away from the topic of war, but from the way he spoke Jaina could sense a deep respect for all beings. It was inspiring; completely at odds with what she thought an orc would be. But he wasn't just an orc any more; he was Grok.

As they were finishing up their meal Jaina took the bones, hobbled to the mouth of the cave, and cast them into the wilderness. When she returned to the fire they had created she settled down beside him and let out a content sigh.

Jaina would never have imagined that being shipwrecked and injured would be relaxing, but there was a certain catharsis to be had away from the rigors of her society. The pain of Arthas' betrayal was lessened here in this foreign land, and this kind being she had found herself with was showing her the true depth of kindness in this realm.

"I hope I don't make you uncomfortable at night," Jaina said, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she thought of his quick morning escapes. She wondered if her suspicions about the situation were true. She was somewhat surprised to realise that she didn't mind if they were; she had found that her own dreams had strayed to the erotic on occasion, and she found herself craving Grok's smiles more and more.

"If you are having trouble sleeping so close to me I could try and get some grasses or something and weave a blanket, or I could go to the beach to search for something that might have washed up. Perhaps we could even keep a fire going and we could try and make some sort of shelter for the mouth of the cave at night..." Jaina looked into Grok's eyes and felt a blush creeping up on her cheek as she rambled on. She stopped speaking and gave him an apologetic nod.


 
Last edited:
Warchief Thrall

Thrall felt the warmth of embarrassment rise to his cheeks when mentioned trouble sleeping. The lightness in her voice made her seem more flirtatious than angry or annoyed.

"No trouble sleeping, the mornings are just uh.. hard for me. However I am, er, used to rising early." Thrall stumbled over his words, it wasn't like him to find it difficult to articulate his meaning but the cheeky smile on her face caused him stomach to flip over. Trying to change the topic Thrall continued with the conversation.

"A blanket does sound like a good idea. You're injuries are healing quite well and I'd be happy to take you with me further inland, Hopefully in the desert we will find enough foliage to help us."

That night Thrall took special care to keep his pelvic area away from Emila, if she was subtly hinting at his morning arousal then he we respect her space. Whether intentionally or not however she wouldn't allow him to stay away, she followed him through the night pressing her shapely backside against his confused yet more than happy to oblige manhood.

After the third time Thrall gave up and allowed himself the reprieve to enjoy the positive pressure against him. He'd never known the touch of a woman in his life whether orc or human and with a future life likely full of danger it was unlikely he ever would. He took the moment to enjoy the small pleasure she was offering, something he would always remember.

The next morning he didn't bother to get up early his morning wood was at full attention and pressed firmly into the crease of her buttocks. Though it was probably disrespectful and normally punishable by death Thrall felt even more aroused at not feeling guilty about his luck.

When she began to stir he whispered in her ear.

"Good morning."
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

The next morning Jaina woke to the now familiar growly voice of Grok. Her companion, normally already gone by the time she stirred, was pressed against her back, his warmth spreading into her and warming her entire body.

She shifted as she begun to test her limbs and gasped in surprise as she felt something pressed along the length of her behind. The hot hardness confirmed her suspicions from the night before, and her heart began to flutter. She wasn't sure if his waterfall of suggestive words were stammered in embarrassment, or whether they were confirmation of what she'd thought.

She knew now though... and she found herself pleased by it.

"Indeed it is," She whispered sleepily as she turned in his embrace, the front of her body now sheltered by the largeness of him. "So you aren't uncomfortable sleeping next to me."

Jaina's tone was light, as was the kiss she placed against his lips. Her own lips fit so neatly between his protruding teeth and she got a heady whiff of his earthy scent. She reached up slowly, her hand tracing against his cheeks. She marveled at the texture of his skin; thick and deceptively smooth.

With a flash of recognition Jaina's hand snapped back from his cheek.

"I'm sorry," She said, shaking her head slightly, "I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you..."

As an ex-human slave, this intimacy is something that Grok could have been thoroughly punished, if not killed, for. She didn't want his old training to kick back in. She didn't know if he had been used as that sort of slave, but if he ever had been used she didn't want him to acquiesce to her touch for this reason only.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall was taken by surprise when Emila gave him a light yet meaning full kiss, he was even more surprised by his own body's reaction, after years of being trained as a gladiator slave Thrall had been indoctrinated to keep himself away from physical contact when it came to humans, especially female's. It was well known that slave masters feared their woman being over powered by the larger and more brutish orcs and so even the slightest hint of touch was considered a crime.

Taretha always found excuses to touch him, sometimes on the shoulder or hand. Of course she made sure no one else saw, over time Thrall became used to her casual and friendly nature and even came to enjoy it. Emila was like her in a lot of ways, though she was wary of him when they first met she was never frightened or hateful toward him. Spending the last few days with her in such close proximity brought back all the old feelings again, things he'd long since forgotten, ever since Taretha was butchered and killed by Thrall original slave master.

"I thought nothing of the sort. I was worried that you might be growing weary of my constant presence at night but I can see it is not the case." Thrall leaned in and brushed his lips against hers again. It was difficult to mimic the way that humans kissed as an orc, his tusks limited what he could do with his mouth and coupled with the fact he had no idea what he was doing, it was a mess.

When they came up for air both had a smear of saliva on their lips which they both promptly wiped up.

"I'm sorry. I've never...This is new for me." He explained. The heat of embarrassment flowed through his body when the words wouldn't come out.
 
Grok's stammering apology warmed Jaina's hard and confirmed her opinion of him. He was sweet and considerate, but seemed to lack confidence in some areas. Jaina knew that her affection was little more than a mingling of appreciation and liking his nature. She wasn't love, but that wasn't what this was about.

She gently pushed him onto his back and pulled herself up before stretching a slender leg over his well muscled stomach. She shifted so that she was straddling his waist and then looked down at him with a smile.

"You do not need to apologise," she assured him before she kissed his cheek. Her lips trailed down his face to his neck, every corded muscle getting a soft peck before she traveled to his shoulders and the part of his chest that she could see through his ruined shirt.

This new land had done strange things to Jaina. It had found her ship wrecked on a beach, rescued and revived by an orc, only for her to learn that this orc was one of the kindest people she had ever met. It helped her to push aside her worries from the Eastern Kingdoms, it soothed the pain that Arthas had caused her, and it made her feel freer than she had in years. The nights of sleeping in Grok's warmth had accustomed her to his presence, and feeling his hardness that morning had awoken something in her. Something earthy, primal, raw.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall knew he should stop, the ever present voice of wisdom urged him to politely decline her affection but that voice was barely a whisper to the roar of lust and passion that thrummed throughout his entire body. Emila's small and supple frame fit nicely within his grasp and as her lips explored his body so to did his own hands.

The flimsy clothing that had barely maintained her modesty throughout their ordeal shifted of her body with barely any effort, with barely any effort Thrall had already managed to slip her worn shirt off. The sight that greeted him was a sight that could not be described in simple words. Though her skin wasn't the earthen green of his kin, the smooth pale softness held its own forbidden attraction.

The two mounds of flesh begged for him to reach out. The small nubs of flesh at the peak of each called out to be devoured and Thrall growled deeply at the thought. He didn't move though, what remained of his sense kept his hands on the handles of her hips; not daring to move further up.
 
Back
Top