Orc Boyfriend Tank (complete)

    Do you decorate or not decorate? That’s the question that bothers you every year as Halloween comes around. Considering you work in a mortuary you know people might feel it’s a bit morbid to decorate for Halloween. On the other hand, you greatly enjoy it. You love the holiday and everything that goes with it.

    You have a stare off with your box of decorations. A big wad of black tinsel with little orange pumpkins and white skeletons peaks over the edge. Back when you were an intern and working at a morgue, you had found that the height of comedy was propping up a skeleton near the entrance. Although, not many people seemed to enjoy it as much as you do.

    You decide to decorate, and you would add things as the days drew closer and closer to the main event. You started with pumpkins on the stoop. You then added lights around the entrance the railing of the stairs. You then hung bats from the ceiling. It wasn’t until you set the scarecrow outside that you received a call.

    “I know it’s scary,” you explain to the woman who called. “It’s Halloween, isn’t that the point?” You scowl as the woman speaks. “The restaurant down the street from me has a cauldron of disembodied limbs, and yet my scarecrow is what scares you?” You look at the phone as the woman screams. “I know I have dead bodies in my basement. Your point?” 

    You hang up the phone with a huff and go about your work. You did give two shits what some PAT mom with a bad haircut thinks about your decorations. You like them. That’s what counts most to you.

    That evening though as you’re leaving work, you open your front door to a massacre. You stare at your pumpkins, smashed and smooshed all over the stairs and the sidewalk in front of the building. You lights have been ripped out and are hanging your scarecrow from the tree. The scarecrows innards have been ripped out and replaced with smashed pumpkin guts.

    You roll your eyes and huff. “My scarecrow was just sitting there, and you lynch him?” You grumble under your breath. “Yet I’m the scary one?” You look up at the scarecrow hanging, and you feel the rage boiling inside you.

    “Can’t reach it?” A low, growling voice asks.

    You turn and see Tank. He’s an elder in the village, one of the head orcs that all the young assholes listen to. You furrow your brow at him.

    “OH I can, look at me, I’m seven feet tall!” You flap your arms out then huff. “What’re uou doing here?”

    Tank walks up beside you and reaches up, taking your scarecrow down from the tree. “I heard some woman bragging at the diner.” He replies. 

    “Bragging?” You scoff. “Bitch.”

    “She is, but you’re better at it.” Tank unravels your scarecrow’s neck and then sets him down on the stairs. 

    You smirk at him. He may be a grisled old orc, but there’s a certain way to him you’ve always been attracted to. You walk up onto the stairs, so you’re eye to eye with him and kiss him.

    “You didn’t just come all this way to see my smashing pumpkins did you?” You smirk at your own horrible joke.

    He cocks a thick brow at you and scoffs. “Not anymore with a mouth like that.”

    You laugh and walk beside him. He puts his massive hand on the small of your back, and you feel powerful. 

    You and Tank have been fooling around for a while now. You had impressed him once you moved into town with your attitude and how you handled the biker gang that watches over the small town. Tank was one of the main leaders, the oldest and longest staying one in fact. Impressing a guy like him was a big deal.

    But hey that’s you, you may be short and petite, but you’re a big deal.

    Tank drives you home, and you slouch down in the seat. You’ve never let anyone get to you before not matter how hard they tried. You always remained above it. But this little attack has you bothered. Your smashed pumpkins, your poor martyr of a scarecrow. You had expected some noses to be turned up, but this was excessive. Not only that, just some smug Barabara or Karen of a woman was bragging about the attack out loud.

    “Fucking cunt,” you grumble under your breath while you pick at your nails.

    “What’s that?” Tank tilts his head towards you. “You know I’m  deaf in this ear, love.”

    You huff and sit up, smacking your palms against the cracking, old seat of Tank’s truck. You glare out the window, but in the darkness, all you see is your grumpy expression mirrored back to you.

    “What is it?” Tank repeats.

    You glance over to him. “Just because my business is dead people why does that make me a target?”

    “Uhh-” Tanks hesitates, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch as he tries to keep from smiling.

    “I know I’m new here but-” you frown and shakes your head. “Is just everyone in this fucking town an asshole?”

    “You included?” Tank smirks.

    You stick your tongue out at him and flop back into the seat.

    “Do you want me to do something about it?” Tank asks, glancing over at you. “I can say something about it.”

    “Oh god,” you groan. “That just sounds pathetic. It makes me sound like a whiny little brat!” You shake your head. “No. The last thing I want you to do is say anything at all about this.”

    “I think it’s immature of anyone,” he replies. “Acting this way towards someone. Not just that, but they way they did it was disgusting.”

    You nod and glare at your reflection. “I’m not holding back then. If they want to act this way, then I’m going to use the full gamut of my decorations. If they have an issue with it, then fine, they don’t have to use my services when they’re loved ones die.”

    Tank grins. “I’m shocked, love,” he growls. He reaches out, his thick, rough hand grabs you thigh and squeezes it. “You’re only doing this now.”

    You smirk and lean back, enjoying his warm, callused palm on your thigh. “Right?” You purr. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

    He drops you off at your house and walks you to the door. As he stoops down to kiss you his back pops and he grimaces.

    “Want to come in?” You offer. “I got that coffee stout you seemed to enjoy last time” You unlock your door and lead him inside.

    Tank grunts as he stands up. “I really should get going, love.”

    “Well, boo,” you frown. You unbutton your shirt and flash him right there on your stoop. “Dream a little dream of me later, then.”

    Tank growls, his lip curling around his tusk. “Fucking bitch.”

    You smirk and close your shirt back around you. “That’s the whole point.” You stand on tiptoe, kissing his neck. “Have a good evening old man.” You say to him as you walk inside. 

    You spend a good portion of your evening gathering decorations to take to the mortuary in the morning. You had all sorts of things you had been saving for your own personal use, but now, you were going to give the place the full haunted house treatment. Skeletons, cobwebs, old wine bottles with creepy labels stuck to them. You weren’t holding back.

    The next day when you arrive to work you find new pumpkins waiting for you as well as some gnarled and weird gourds, and a small stack of hay bales. You smile, already planning how you would thank Tank later. 

    You set to decorating, placing some skeletons outside with your repaired scarecrow. You add new lights and set up glowing pumpkins in the windows. You had cobwebs to every corner and chucks plastic spiders into their like confetti. Soon, you were pleased with how everything looked.

    “Let them, bitch,” you chuckle under your breath.

    When you head home that evening, Tank is waiting outside on you. He has a big bag of take out food in his fist.

    “A present?” You hold your arms out for the bag of food.

    “Something like that,” the old orc growls as he rests the warm bag in your waiting arms. 

    You smirk up at him. “I already owe you for all the new lovely pumpkins,” you smirk.

    “You owe me for that flash last night.” His dark, husky voice is quiet so only you can hear. He grabs you, squeezing your rear. “I had dreams last night.”

    You bite your lip, feeling excited. “Bad ones?”

    “In a way,” he snarls. He hands pets up under your skirt, touching your bare skin. “It was all good until I woke up and realized how horrible it was.”

    You chuckle and move to the door. “We best go inside then.” You unlock the front door and cart the bag of food inside. You lay it on the counter then go to the fridge, taking out the stout you had offered him the night before.

    Tank takes one, opening the lid with just his finger.

    “What offerings did you bring the evil spirit tonight?” You ask, reaching into the bag and finding warm containers from your favorite curry place.

    “Hopefully the evil spirit will be appeased this evening,” Tank says as he sits down on the sofa.

    You smirk over at him, setting down one of the containers. “I am hungry, and I am very pleased with the offering.” You saunter over to him and place yourself down between his knees. 

You smirk up at him, running your hands up his legs and spreading his thighs more. “But that’s not what I want to eat.” 

Tank ease back into the sofa, biting his lip as you unclasp his belt and open his pants. He lifts his hips just enough so you can tug down his pants and let them slip around his ankles.

“You’ll spoil your meal,” he teases.

You stick your tongue out at him as you take his thick cock into your fist. “Don’t tell me how to live my life,” you snark at him. You lick up his shaft, feeling his pulse as he starts to grow hard.

Even soft his cock is like a cannon. You had laughed your head off when you first made that joke. Every tank needs a cannon. Well, Tank for sure had one. You small tongue laps up his side then swirls around his tip.

Tanks groans, melting into the couch as he grows erect.

You look up at him, seeing the dark expression in his eyes grow hungrier and headier with every passing second. You take his tip into your mouth sucking him and listening to his low, delicious moans.

As you pull back to admire your handy work you hear something from outside. You hear hushes voices and laughter. You then hear something hitting the side of your house.

“Stay put,” you growl at Tank as you stand up.

You go to the window and see some of the younger members of the biker gang outside. They’ve got eggs and toilet paper and aren’t afraid to use them. 

“Mother fuckers,” you snarl as you open the front door. An egg goes whizzing by your head and smashes on the floor behind you.

“Hey!” You roar as you stand on your stoop.

“Fuck off Morticia!” One of the young orcs snaps at you.

You look at the tree in your lawn, seeing it is layered with toilet paper. “That’s just a damn waste,” you growl.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Another young orc cackles.

You turn, seeing Tank come up behind you. You smirk out. “Oh, I don’t know.” You look over your shoulder. “What do you think, dear?”

The young orcs all freeze and stare in horror as Tank stands behind you. You loved the looks on their faces as they all scrambled.

“You all best clean up this mess, or I’m going to rip your cocks off and feed them to the wargs,” Tank snarls and he yanks you back into the house.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Did you see the looks on their faces?”

Tank picks you up and carries you off to the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, stripping away your clothes as you lay there.

“I don’t give a fuck about those younglings,” he growls. 

You whimper softly as his rough hands drag down your body. You look down, seeing his cannon is thick and drooping from its own weight. You sit up, sitting on all fours as you start licking at him again. You can barely fit his tip into your mouth, but you make due. You suck him, tasting his precum as it starts to dribble out. 

Tank growls and strokes his palm down your back. His fingers tease your tight pucker, playing with it. He licks his fingers and then goes back to playing. One slips inside, and you moan, his cock slapping you in the nose as it pops out of your mouth.

Tank licks his finger again, soaking it and then easing it back into your ass. 

You groan and stretch, enjoying the feeling of him inside you. You reach between your thighs, rubbing your clit as his finger fucks your asshole.

“You better have lube,” Tank growls.

You giggle. “Bedside drawer, anh-” you whimper. “I have three kinds.”

Without taking his finger out, he reaches out, opening the drawer and taking out a bottle. He dribbles down down your crack, and you shiver at the cold, slick sensation. 

You reach up, stroking Tank’s cannon as he pours lube over the tip. You rub the lube in, enjoying how he looks so slick and glossy.

“Turn around,” Tank snarls at you.

“As you command,” you turn, lifting your hips and using a pillow to prop yourself up.

Tank places himself behind you. Both his hands grab and spread your cheeks. He squeezes and slaps, and you gasp in excitement. He slaps you to watch your cheeks jiggle, and he smears in the lube. 

“Don’t just keep me waiting, old man,” you mewl. “This little slut doesn’t like to wait.”

Tanks snarls. “This one will.” He grabs your hips and pulls you back. His cock rubs against your ass before slipping between your thighs. His length ruts against your slick folds and aching clit. You gasp and bury your face into the pillow.

His hand spanks you again, and you whimper. “Goddammit Tank,” you whine.

Tank chuckles. “You said you didn’t want to sound like a brat.” He spanks you again then grabs you cheek and massages it. “What is this I hear?”

“I wanted you to fuck me last night,” you whine. “Come on!”

“You sound like a spoiled brat who is used to getting her way,” Tank’s hand pets up your back and grabs the back of your neck. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you push back against him. “Fuck me!”

Tanks snorts and takes his cock into his fist. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his tip rub against your pucker. 

“What’s the magic word?” You can hear the smug smile in his voice.

“Fuck you!” You pant.

Tank pulls back. “No. That’s not it.” He spanks you again.

You whine and trash, trying to find him behind you with your thighs and hips. “Tank!” You growl.

“You have to say the magic word,” Tank’s heavy hand claps on your ass again. “Or you won’t get anything you want.”

You whine and snarl. “Please!” You bark back at him.

Another sound smack to your ass. “Say it like you mean it.”

You huff and catch your breath. “Please, Tank,” you mewl. “Please. Please. Fuck me.”

You bite your lip as you feel his tip at your ass again. “Much better.” 

You lose your breath as he starts to enter you. He got you prepped and ready, but even still, he’s a lot of orc to take. He stretches you to the brink and then stretches you more. You whine and squeal, realizing you may sound a bit like a yowling cat. 

“Good girl,” Tank murmurs. He squeezes and kneads your hips. “My very good girl.”

You shiver once he’s fully in place. “Oh wow,” you drool.

Tank smirks, pulling back and then shoving back inside.

“Anh!” You cry out. “Oh fuck.”

He does it again, pulling out and then thrusting back inside you. He shakes you to the core, rattling your bones and shaking your senses into different realities. 

His thick fingers wrap around your waist and rub at your slit. He taps your clit and then eases a finger into your slit. It feels too much. His cock in your ass and his finger in your cunt. You feel overstuffed. But what a good feeling it is.

You grunt and moan as he shoves you deeper and deeper into the bed. Your face is smearing against the sheets, and the headboard beats the wall into pulp. Your core is throbbing and aching. The deep sensation is coursing through your limbs and to even the tip of your hair. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

Above you, Tank is snarling and grunting. His fingers dig deeper into your hip and his hips spasm. Inside, his pulsing heat is raging. The first gushes come as he lets out a choked roar. The more his voice comes out, the more he gets inside you.

Tank pulls away from you, heaving and snarling. He slips from you and you flop onto the bed like a dead fish. You lay there, staring out at the wall until Tank flips you over and collapses beside you.

You both lay in silence for the longest time, breathing hard and gulping down cold air. You turn your head, looking at him. You reach out, stroking his cheek with your knuckles. 

“Have fun?” You purr.

He grunts. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

You smirk and curl into his side. “No, you’re not.”