Orc Boyfriend (Mug-Complete)

    Most nights are quiet and easy going. Your pub was the kind of place people came after a long day of work but weren’t quite ready to go back home. It was cozy and warm, during the winter you had the fireplace going with overstuffed armchairs around it. You had worked hard to make that place yours and to make it the sort of place you liked being in. You had worked most of your life in dive bars and taverns, punk clubs, and even behind the bar at a strip club, and none of them had the atmosphere you enjoyed. 

    As a child your father used to take you to his hunting lodge, you loved it there, aside from the stuffed animal heads all over the wall, it had a cozy, gentle atmosphere. The men and women there were always welcoming, and it felt like visiting family most nights.

    It took you a long time, but you finally had a pub you could be proud of. And sure, it wasn’t without its troubles. People got too drunk, frat parties came along, bridal showers, etc., etc. But usually, weeknights were calm and quiet.

    There was just one thing you hadn’t quite planned on, the Tusk Riders, a local Orc biker gang. They drove into town about once a month, making the pub their place for the week or two that they’re there. Now, for the most part, they’re good customers. They pay well, tip well, and even lend their protection to the pub. But now, there was a slight fear to your pub. As long as the Tusk Riders weren’t around, people came in freely. But usually, they were too afraid to patron these days.

    You had extra rooms upstairs as well, your apartment was on the top floor, but the second floor you would rent out whenever someone needed it. Usually, when the Tusk Riders were in town, the three main leaders of the gang rented them. There was Shura, the leader, she was tall and muscled and kept her hair in a bright pink mohawk. Her second in command was Mug, probably the biggest Orc you had ever seen. He had a big gut, but his arms were massive. Then there was Yahg who handled the money and things Shura didn’t care for.

    Mug was usually the one you preferred dealing with. He was a way more laid back than Shura and Yahg and had a way with words the other two didn’t. You liked him actually. He had a deep, rumbly voice you found sexy. His skin was ruddy copper with darker streaks here and there. You’ve found excuses to touch him, and you feel a bit silly for doing so.

    One day as you’re setting up shop, you hear the stairs groan and squeak. Mug steps out of the stairwell, having to turn at an angle so he can fit out.

    “You’re up early,” you chuckle. “Do you want some coffee? I just put it on so it’ll be fresh.”

    “You’re an angel,” he groans as he sits down at the bar. He holds his head in his hands and yawns loudly.

    “You ok?” You ask as you set sugar and creamer before him as well as a shaker of cinnamon. You found out sometimes ago he liked it, so you kept it on hand.

    “Can’t fucking sleep,” he growls. “Between Shura fucking whoever she wants and Yahg leaving on his god awful music all night, I get no sleep from all the sound.”

    “I’m sorry,” you say. “The walls here are paper thin.” You turn and pour his coffee, placing the extra large mug in front of him.

    He grunts and takes it, adding creamer and cinnamon to the brew. “How do you sleep?”

    “I’m usually too exhausted from working all evening,” you answer, leaning on the bar, showing off your cleavage a little. “I just fall asleep.”

    He rubs his eyes. “Lucky.”

    You tilt your head towards him. “You never wanna invite someone up to your room? Actually get exhausted enough to sleep?”

    He scoffs. “I’m not as young as Shura,” he takes his first sip, his tusks hitting the ceramic first. “I don’t much care for the free for all anymore. When I need it, it’ll find it.”

    You chuckle and finish cleaning up behind the bar. He sips his coffee in peace, probably enjoying the quiet and stillness of the bar while he can. 

    “You hungry?” You ask him. “I was going to order myself something for dinner before I open.”

    He looks you over then shrugs. “Don’t worry about me,” he says.

    “You sure?” You give him a smile. “What’s your other options?”

    A look comes over his face, and he sighs. He closes his eyes and laughs. “Ok, what were you getting?”

    “There’s a curry place down the street. A friend of mine runs it, he makes the best naan bread.”

    “Order two of whatever you’re getting,” Mug chuckles.

    “You got it.” You go to place the order. As you do, Shura comes down the stairs. She gives you a sideways glance. Her dark eyes cutting into you. Her square jaw and extra long tusks certainly make her look tough. But it was her eyes that made you worry. She hadn’t don’t anything to give you concern, yet, but the way she looked at you always gave you frightened goosebumps.

    “Mug,” she growls. “I’m heading out.”

    “Where are you going?” Mug asks.

    She takes his coffee cup and steals a long drink. “Oh my god, gross,” she sets it down, letting it slosh over the edge. “I’m going to check up on the rest of the gang. After that, we may ride out for a while.”

    Mug shakes his head, and a deep sigh moves his shoulders. “Don’t take this into your hands,” he growls at her. “You don’t need this fight.”

    She scoffs. “What makes you think I’m going there?” She waves to him as she heads out the door. “See ya, old man.”

    Mug uses the sleeve of his shirt to mop up the coffee Shura spilled. After you order you come back to the bar. 

    “Everything ok with her?” You ask.

    “She’s a troublemaker, always has been,” he grumbles. “She’s my niece you know?”

    You eyes bulge. “No!”

    “My sister, her ma, used to be our leader. Rode until the day Shura was born. Even after that,” he chuckles. “Passed the crown down to Shura and bought herself a houseboat of all things.”

    “You don’t look old enough to be an uncle,” you smirk.

    He eyes me. “How old do you think I am?”

    I shrug. “With orcs, I find it’s hard to tell. So I choose not to guess.”

    “I’m fifty-five,” he answers with a grin. “What about you, love?” He tilts his head. “You look ripe to me.”

    Your cheeks burn and your heart hammers. “I’m uh...I’m a uh…” you then chuckle. “It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”

    “Have I ever been polite?” He smirks,

    You lick your lips. “I’m thirty-seven,” you answer him.

    “Good age,” his eyes trail down your neck, and you hold back a grin when you notice his eyes linger on your breasts. 

    There’s a knock on the door, and the delivery boy comes in with your food. You pay then hand Mug his plate. “I hope you like spicy.”

    “I live for spicy,” he growls.

    That evening, the bar is surprisingly quiet. Mug is there, as well as Yahg and a few others from the gang. Shura has apparently taken most of the group elsewhere and has yet to return. Although around one in the morning you hear the revving and charging of the motorcycles. As that noise dies down outside you, hear shouting and cursing. The next thing you know, Shura bursts into the pub, doubled over and grasping her bleeding side.

    “Shura!” Mug stands up and goes to her side.

    “Stay back old man, I’m fine, I just need a drink,” she growls as she sits at the bar. “Girl, you,” she points at you. “You know what I like.”

    “Shura,” you start nervously. “You need a doctor, you shouldn’t be-”

    Shura grabs you by your neck, dragging you up off the ground and holding you up. You choke and wheezes, clawing at her wrists as she holds you aloft. “Give me a fucking drink!” She hisses, those dark, terrifying eyes bore into you. “Right now!” She tosses you down, and your back hits the shelves. You crumple to the floor and scramble to get back up. 

    “How dare you, young one!” Mug grabs Shura by her arm.

    “Let me go!” Shura hits him hard in the jaw, but he barely flinches. He glares at her, and her eyes widen, realizing her terrible mistake. Mug headbutts her knocking her out cold. 

    “Holy shit,” Yahg whispers. 

    “Get to Aester,” Mug shouts. “Old lady at the end of the block. Can’t miss her, her house looks like marigolds pissed all over it. She’ll patch her up without alert the cops.” He helps them load Shura up onto a truck and gets everyone out of the bar. 

    You sit behind the bar, cowering there. It wasn’t much that Shura did, but she did enough to scare the living shit out of you. You sniffle and collect yourself, your hands cupped around your neck where Shura's fist had been wrapped.

    “You ok?” He low voice rumbles.

    You look up at him, seeing him kneeled down beside you. You shakily nod, and a sudden sob escapes. 

    “There now,” he coaxes. He pulls you into his arms and picks you up. Without a word, he carries you up the two flights of stairs to your apartment. He sets you down on your sofa and inspects your neck.

    “I’m sorry about her,” he murmurs gently. “I should’ve stopped her at the door and not let her in until she saw that wound tended to.”

    “It’s not your fault,” you take a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. I’m just rattled right now.”

    His thumb brushes away the tears on your cheeks, and you lean into his palm. His fingers are rough and calloused, but it feels nice all the same.

    “Anything I can do to make you feel better?” He asks. “Anything at all.”

    Your heart starts to beat faster. You lift your eyes to look into his, and a dark thought fills your mind. “Kiss it,” your voice sounds strange and seductive. You tilt your head, stretching your neck, so more skin is exposed. “Kiss it and make it better.”

    He growls deeply and bends down. You feel his tusks on your skin first and your lips part in surprise. His lips drag along your neck, and you moan softly. You place your hand on this tree-trunk of a thigh, and his kisses grow deeper. He kisses along your neck and jawline. His tongue slips out, licking your neck. You let out a moan and inch closer, your palm hitting the meaty bulge in his pants. You rub it through the leather as his monstrous hands wrap around your waist. You both look at one another, eyes lidded and lusty. You clash together, knocking teeth before forming a hungry kiss. You bite his bottom lip and kiss his neck, biting the taut muscle there. He groans and leans back as you open his shirt, planting more kisses down his chest and soft belly. 

    You reach for his belt buckle, and he slips his fingers under your chin. “Be careful, darling,” he growls and kisses you again. “Some monsters can’t be tamed.”

    You bite his lip again and suck on it. “I’ve wanted this monster for a long time.” You pull open his belt and yank open the pants. “Give it to me, Mug.”

    He smirks and leans back, watching as you pull his cock out. Your eyes go wide, staring at the bulbous, thick thing before you. It was ruddy copper along the shaft, but the head was a dusky pink, shining and already oozing lots of precum.

    You stroke it slowly, admiring the thick, dark veins that covered it. You look up at him, seeing his potent expression. You bow down, licking the shiny helmet and his hips buck. You suck on him, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can.

    “Fuck,” he growls.

    You chuckle. “It is a bit big but,” you sit up, stripping off your shirt and bra. “I think we can figure something out. You shove him down on the sofa and climb on top of him. You take your breasts and squish them around his shaft. You use them to stroke him while you lick and suck his tip. He growls and moans before taking your tits into his palms, moving them on his own. 

    He then releases you and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you on top of him. He kisses you hungrily. His hands rub roughly down your skin and grab your ass, squeezing it hard. You whimper, feeling his strong fingers rub against your slit. 

    The rugged pads of his fingers slip along your wetness. You straddled his thigh, rubbing yourself against him. He growls, leaning his head back and watching you.

    “You’re burning me,” he growls.

    You swallow and catch a quick breath. “And?”

    He chuckles. “I like it.” He moves you, placing you over the arm of the sofa, so your rear is lifted towards him. You feel his calloused palm rub your soft flesh, squeezing and pulling your cheeks apart. You mewl softly as his fingers rub against you. He catches your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as your cream smears his palm. He kisses your back and bites the nape of your neck. 

    “I’ve been wanting you for a long time,” he growls into your ear, his voice alone making you shiver. “I feel like a kid getting the prize in his cereal.”

    You snort and thrust your ass back at him. “You haven’t even opened the box yet,” you pant. He chuckles, kissing your neck and moaning. His cock rubs against your ass cheeks and thigh, his finger plunges inside you, and you bite your cheek. His finger is bigger than you expected. It moves inside you, coaxing a gush of cum from you. You shiver and stretch, feeling him rub inside you, teasing the sweet spot.

    “Fuck,” he snarls. “That’s a box.”

    You snort and chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I want MY prize now,” your purr. “Can I have it?”

    His finger slips out, and he sucks it clean. “Well, since you asked nicely.” He moves into place, his cock slipping between your thighs and rubbings against your dripping mound. You shudder and suck in a tentative breath. His tip pushed for entrance and pulls out. He eases inside again and pulls back, rubbing himself to you.

    “Stop it!” You whimper. “Give me your dick!”

    He laughs. “Give me time, darling.” He grips your hips and pulls you back, his tip aligning with your slit and inching inside. 

    Your mouth hangs open, and you groan in pleasure as he stretches you open, making you take his monstrous girth slowly. You mewl and gasp, reaching below and touching his shaft as it disappears inside you. Once he’s snuggly inside, he breathes.

    “Oh fuck,” he snarls. “Holy shit.” he grabs your hair, tangling it around his fingers and pulling you up. You gasp, rising, so you’re on your knees. You reach back, grabbing his hips as he thrusts upwards inside you. You cry out, surprised by how deep he’s gone. 

    “Oh god!” You wail.

    He thrusts again, his free hand pressing to your stomach. You whimper, feeling every powerful inch of him inside. “More,” you whine. “I can handle it.”

    He holds you still against his chest and starts shaking the sofa. He propels himself faster and harder inside you. You hear the wet slapping between your thighs and his deep, guttural snarls are right in your ear. You feel the sweat dripping down his chest against your back, and in your hands, you feel the taut muscles of his thighs. You shiver and cry out. He shoves you down again, grasping your hips, he plunges deep inside. You're close to the edge, slipping and careening ever faster towards it. You throw your head back, grunting with each of Mug’s powerful thrusts. You start to whimper, each one gaining pitch until you roar out. You feel the bubble burst and electricity rushes through you. You buck and jerk, twitching against him. He snarls, bucking harder, shaking and nearly throwing you over the arm of the couch. He keeps going, making you almost lose your mind with rapid aftershocks. 

    He then stills, snarling and howling, he fills you. You sigh as his heat floods you and he doubles over, kissing your neck and back as he continues to surge inside. You giggle softly. 

    “You ok?” He whispers.

    “I feel peachy,” you smirk. “Just can’t feel anything below my waist.”

    He picks you up, and you direct him to your bedroom. He lays down beside you, resting, so his arm serves as your pillow. You relax, enjoying him beside you as well as the remarkable afterglow. 

    “Cereal box eh?” You tease.

    He grunts. “Forget I said that.”

    You chuckle and roll over, cuddling his soft, big belly. “I’ve been waiting on a night with you too, you know?”

    “Just a night?” He smirks. 

    You shrug and chuckle. “Or maybe a dozen. Who knows?”

    He rubs your back and pulls the blanket over you. “If you feel like it, I’ve been told I’m better than a hot cup of coffee in the morning.”

    You bite your lip, wondering if you’ll even be able to walk right in the morning. Even so, you can’t deny your pent-up need for him. “I’d still like the coffee,” you purr. “But you can do both, right?”

    He licks his lips. “I can do it all, darling.”